


Don't Give Me Up

by Apinchofsanity



Series: Don't give me up series [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholism mention, Anxiety, Dark Magic, Drowning, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Manipulation, Graphic Description, Grooming, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Insomnia, Invasion of Privacy, John literally looses his shit, Low Self Esteem, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Magical manipulation, Memory Alteration, Mental Health Issues, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Manipulation, Nightmares, Obsessive Behavior, Panic Attacks, Possessive Behavior, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Slow Burn, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Statutory Rape, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, Warlock OC, Warlocks, Wounds, a mighty slow burn, as usual, black magic, but it will happen, descriptions of panic attacks, fucking fight me jeff davis, he's tried to be supportive but it only goes so far, his name is john okay!, i will die on this perch, it counts even though Stiles is convinced he wanted it, like stop peter, noah just doesn't fit!!!!, peter being a creepy fuck, slooow burn, spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-06-26 10:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 37
Words: 66,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15661290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apinchofsanity/pseuds/Apinchofsanity
Summary: Stiles is drifting, unmoored and sinking all at the same time. His emotions are haywire and his life feels like it's falling apart ever since the sacrifice to save his father. Plagued by nightmares and feeling more alone than ever, Stiles drowns his sorrows by partying and drinking. A road which leads him straight into Nicholas's arms. Will Stiles survive Nicholas?





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles POV

Every single fucked up thing that’s happened in Stiles life during the past two years could all be traced back to one single moment. 

The night before sophomore year with Scott McCall. The night in the woods.

That one stupid! fucking moment. That just… spiraled, like a trail of dominoes tipping over, each one setting the other one off. A chain reaction of epic proportions. Except, with dominos at the end all you’re left with is a bit of a mess, with Beacon Hills you’re left with a pile of dead bodies and guilt so heavy it steals the breath from your lungs.

Tipping back his bottle of beer Stiles writhed to the heavy rhythm of the music, lips wrapped around the rim of the bottle he swallowed large gulps of the cheap alcohol before throwing both his arms in the air. The bass thumped steadily through the floor as the song switched to another, its mindless repetitive beat drawing Stiles deeper into the fold of enthusiastic sweat-slicked bodies on the dance floor.

Using the hand not clutching his beer Stiles dragged his fingers through his hair, dark brown strands sticking up in every direction. The back pocket of his jeans vibrated for the third time that night, rolling his eyes Stiles reached down and pulled out his phone squinting at the flashing screen. The name SCOTTIE clear in large letters along with a photo of his friend grinning dopely at the camera, dimples showing and eyes bright. Guilt curdled at the bottom of his stomach like rotten milk, mixing with the alcohol to create an acidic taste in his mouth as he made his decision. Swiping decline, Stiles shoved the phone back into his jeans. 

Swallowing down the last of his beer Stiles wiped his arm across his mouth before heading back towards the packed bar. Squeezing his way past other dancers Stiles placed his empty bottle on the sleek white surface and gave a confident grin to the bartender “same again dude”. 

Waiting patiently for his drink Stiles tapped the bar with his fingers absently to the beat of the music, the alcohol in his veins making him relaxed in a way his Ritalin never could. 

Suddenly a figure appeared beside him, expensive jacket clad arms leaning against the bar as the man in question nodded his head to the bartender with a blinding grin, a smooth British accent flowing from his lips “another whiskey please Jasper”. 

The bartender who Stiles now knew to be called Jasper nodded and slid Stiles his beer before pouring the man a fresh glass of whiskey in a crystal glass. Grabbing the bottle Stiles took a long swig eyes fluttering closed as the ice cold liquid trickled down his throat. 

“Drinking to forget?”

Choking in surprise Stiles gave the stranger beside him a startled look, eyes watering heavily as he coughed repeatedly like an idiot. 

Holy fuck the guy was talking to him. The really attractive older guy with an amazing accent was talking to him. Holy shit. Striking blue eyes twinkling underneath thick dark brows stared into Stiles own, pulling him in with a tantalizing smirk tugging at the corners of soft looking pink lips. Long slightly wavy blond hair fell messily against smooth looking pale skin, loose strands framing a strong angular jawline and cheekbones so sharp they could cut glass. Did he already say holy fuck? Because hoooly fuuck!

Clearing his throat and blinking rapidly Stiles fought to regain his composure under the amused gaze of the impossibly handsome stranger. “I-wh-what?” he finally choked out, his voice tumbling embarrassingly over the simple words. Wincing at how bad he sounded Stiles silently berated himself with sarcastic mental cheer ‘nice one Stilinski’.

To his surprise, instead of walking away from his embarrassing demonstration of the world’s first ever verbal faceplant, the mystery man simply laughed. And dear God above the sound that came out of the mysterious man could only be best described as pure sin, somehow the deep tone matched the absurd beauty of his face perfectly, oozing warmth and charm like a lit fireplace crackling in the winter time.

Tilting his glass of whiskey in Stiles direction the man spoke again “your drink, beautiful. Cheap beer, always a good choice when you want to drink to forget something”. Stiles smiled slightly bitterly and lifted a shoulder in a shrug “Nah, more like drinking to sleep”.

Letting out a small noise of understanding the man took a sip of his whiskey before addressing Stiles again in a mock whisper “you know most people listen to whale noises or some other bullshit right?”. Stiles snorted with a smile “Yeah, somehow I don’t think whale noises are going to help me sleep”

The stranger tilted his head, long dark eyelashes lowered seductively as he regarded Stiles with interest. Placing his glass down the man stuck out his hand in Stiles direction with a flash of teeth “Nicholas Campbell, charmed to make your acquaintance”. Biting his lip Stiles regarded the hand being offered to him for a few milliseconds before throwing caution into the wind and reaching out, grasping Nick’s hand and introducing himself without any further hesitation “Stiles Stilinski”. 

Expecting a simple handshake Stiles was surprised when Nick raised his hand to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles. Fighting back the urge to blush, his heart beating loudly in his chest, Stiles raised his brow “wow. Are all Englishmen incessant flirts then?” he remarked trying to appear unaffected. 

Nicholas gave another blinding smile “I hope not. I pride myself on being a totally unique individual after all”. Snorting Stiles shook his head with a smirk, his hand dropping from the older man's grip “nope, you are definitely embodying the English gentleman stereotype right now. Nothing original about it. Sorry, bro. I’d blame Tom Hiddleston”.

Quirking a brow Nick finished the last of his drink and leaned towards Stiles, iridescent blue gaze twinkling with a hunger that made Stiles' palms sweat and mouth turn dry. “Well, how about you and I go to the dance floor and I’ll show you how little of a gentleman I actually am?”.

Running his tongue across his bottom lip Stiles squinted his eyes in consideration, something deep and primal tugging at him from inside, like a fish hook around his naval, compelling him to say yes. Placing his beer down Stiles gave a cheeky smile “alright then, show me what you’ve got”.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up

Stiles' head hurt.

Fuck.

Groaning Stiles buried his face into the amazingly soft material underneath his cheek. His brain was squeezing itself in time with his heart and he was starting to regret his existence a whole lot, like a fuck ton.

Hangovers sucked.

Thoughts moving like sludge, Stiles stayed still in the vain hope of sinking into back into the oblivion of sleep and escaping the incessant pounding in his skull.

Something shifted from his left and Stiles bolted upwards, his eyes flying open, confusion clinging to his mind like a baby sloth while his instincts kicked into overdrive. "Whuzza goin on?" he mumbled tongue heavy in his mouth, his words slurring sleepily.

A familiar figure appeared in his line of blurred vision and Stiles found himself relaxing as Nick smiled warmly at him over a cup of something steaming. "If this is what I think it is then I love you" Stiles declared in awe as Nick handed the cup over to his eager hands. Inhaling the plumes of heat billowing from the liquid Stiles blinked in surprise at the floral aroma tickling his nose. "I don't know if it's the hangover or the fact that you're really attractive but this smells like the single best coffee in the entire world".

Nick laughed and took a seat beside Stiles. Taking in his surroundings with a bit more care Stiles realized he was currently sat on a very comfortable ornate leather couch, it's dark wine red surface covered partly by small silk pillows and a soft white blanket. Sitting up straighter Stiles sipped carefully on the piping hot liquid, cautious as not spill anything on the furniture that was no doubt more expensive than his entire life. Eyes widening Stiles let out an extremely pleased hum, his tongue bursting with the subtle berry and caramel taste.

"This is really good" he said after a few seconds of silence while he reveled in the bliss of his headache retreating to a dull ache with the buzz of caffeine and sugar entering his system. Nick took a sip from his own cup and smiled "I should hope so, it's Moloka'i Coffee. Hawaii has the most amazing climate for bean growth".

Lowering the coffee and settling it against his lap, Stiles wrapped his hands securely around the white porcelain, his fingers tapping nervously against the surface. After a moment or two of quiet consideration and lip chewing which only really resulted in a very sore bottom lip. Stiles broached the sensitive subject of his current whereabouts. "So not that I'm ungrateful or anything, but...how did I end up here? I mean the last thing I remember is dancing".

Nick nodded placing his empty cup down before beginning to speak his eyes staring at Stiles with sincere honesty. "Well we danced, we drank..a lot" he laughed softly and gave Stiles a grin before continuing his explanation "we were both pretty drunk and I think you mentioned that you needed to get a hotel room? So I offered my couch like the wonderful English gentleman that I am, you accepted and here we are".

Stiles went over Nick's words in his head, trying to match them with his alcohol muddled memories of last night. He remembered dancing with the older man, drinking and yep, crashing on his couch. Rubbing his face Stiles inhaled through his nose "it's coming back a bit, sorry if I caused you any trouble. I'm not the best drinkers, it's a family curse I think" he commented sourly eyes darting down to the coffee in his lap.

"Hey, no need for apologies. I think my poor mother would be rolling in her grave if I let you get a hotel last night when I have a perfectly good couch" Nick shrugged earning a sheepish smile from the still slightly embarrassed teen. Bringing the cup back to his lips Stiles took a few more sips of the coffee hoping the rim would help hide the blush he could feel creeping over his cheeks.

"So do you have to be home soon or?" Nick questioned innocently, ruffling his hand through his hair, thick golden strands falling haphazardly across his face creating a deliciously disheveled look that made Stiles heartache.

Resisting the urge to scowl Stiles pursed his lips, his mind going back to Beacon Hills and what awaited him there, or rather what didn't. Ever since the Darach incident just over a month ago, his dad had thrown himself headfirst into cold cases at the station, working day and night, double shift after double shift just to try and track down anything that might have been supernatural. Sure Stiles understood at first, but then a few days turned into a week, then a week into a month and suddenly he was spending less than five minutes a day with his own father. It was like when his mother died all over again.

Then there was Scott. Scott who ditched him quicker than you could say Allison, who spent most of his time "pack training" with Isaac and Derek then with his own best friend.

And last but not least were the nightmares. The hideously gruesome nightmares that plagued his sleep every single night since sacrificing himself to the Nemeton. Dreams so vivid and real that he constantly woke up with the phantom feeling of warm blood covering his hands, his heart beating rapidly and breath running short. He was losing grip on reality and it terrified him, scared him so much that all he wanted to do was escape and forget. So he drove, took his jeep and fake ID right out of his small town to closest biggest city to drink and dance his pain away. So far it's been working, every Friday after a long week at school Stiles headed out knowing neither his friends no his father would miss him.

Prompted by his thoughts Stiles reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, unlocking the screen. Unsurprisingly there was only a single text message unread text message waiting for him, sent early hours last night.

Popps

Working late, don't wait up. Stay out of trouble!

Rolling his eyes Stiles shoved the phone back where it belonged and met Nick's eyes with an unwavering grin, even though his heart burned with anger "looks like I'm free for the taking".

Nick who had been watching him in silence broke out in a large smile at Stiles words, eyes flashing with something deep and primal which caused Stiles stomach to clench and flood with heat in excitement. "Fantastic! I've been meaning to try out this new breakfast scramble recipe and you're the perfect person to give an opinion".

Eyes widening in surprise Stiles let out a disbelieving chuckle "a budding chef too? This is almost too good to be true". Nick still smiling brightly simply leant forward slowly, stopping a hair's breadth away from making contact with Stiles' lips, his gaze pulling the teen deeper "Darlin. I'm the whole package". Stiles licked his subconsciously as Nick's breath ghosted over the sensitive flesh, goosebumps spreading across the bare skin of his arms like a wildfire.

Nick pulled back, lifting himself off of the sofa with a grace so foreign to Stiles own gangly limbs. "You can take a shower if you want. I find hot water always helps with a good hangover. I can also lend you some clothes to wear whilst I wash and dry yours?". Blinking in confusion, his mind snapped from the hypnotic haze of Nick's eyes and the sudden space between them, Stiles could only muster a nod in reply to the kind offer.

As Stiles was lead through Nick's apartment towards the bathroom he could only come to one solid conclusion about his host. He was filthy fucking rich.

Shit.

Okay, it was decided. As soon as Stiles got out of the shower he was going to ask Nick what his endgame was. Because there had to be an endgame right? Stiles wasn't dumb enough to believe a handsome, older, RICH guy like Nicholas would have an honest interest in a skinny, awkward loser like him. It just didn't happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2nd chaaapteeerr!!!! :P


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into the mind and the intentions of the man who Stiles went home with

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV CHAAANGEEE!!! Nick is so fun to write!!! :D Also this is where it kind of gets heated so the mature rating kicks off here I guess

Nick's POV

"Holy fuck dude! Your shower has the best water pressure setting I've ever experienced in my life! Also, you could fit like three bodybuilders in there at once". Stiles strolled back into the living room with a fresh bounce in his step, his body renewed from the long hot shower he'd indulged in. His voice carrying easily across to the other side of the large room where a stylish open plan kitchen stood with glossy black cabinets, stainless steel appliances, and glistening white marble countertops.

Nicholas smirked, pleased at the sound of his guest's enthusiasm and turned away from the skillet, his eager eyes roaming appreciatively over Stiles's body, the teen's lithe frame dressed in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up messily to the elbow and top three buttons undone. A small part of Nick found itself disappointed to see that Stiles had felt it necessary to also don the short black swim shorts that he had provided the younger man with. Nickolas had hoped the shirt would be enough, his mind yearning to see more of the rich milky expanse of Stiles skin, the way moles dotted themselves across the surface like constellations in the night sky.

No matter. Stiles would become comfortable soon enough. Nicholas would make sure of it.

"I will give your compliments to my interior designer. I'm sure Becky will be thrilled someone else appreciates her affinity for high-class bathroom appliances".

Stiles tilted his head curiously his feet coming to a halt in front of the breakfast island which separated the living room from the kitchen. "What? Don't you like showers?" his question was phrased almost disbelievingly as if it was inconceivable to him that another human being wouldn't like a shower. Speaking to Stiles over his shoulder as he turned off the hob and grabbed the handle of the skillet, Nick moved through the kitchen, opening a drawer and grabbing utensils. "I'm more of a bath person myself. Nothing quite like emerging yourself in a tub after a long day". With a flourish, Nick plated up the scramble onto two plates already waiting on the island before dumping the skillet into a soapy sink.

Holding out the knife and fork for Stiles Nick wiggled his eyebrows and intoned in a particularly ridiculous butler impression "your utensils my good sir". Shaking his head with an amused snort Stiles gently took the knife and fork from Nick's hand, his fingers brushing against the British man's knuckles by accident. Stiles mumbled his thanks a blush dusting high on his cheeks, the pale skin flushing itself a pretty shade of pink.

Nick watched as Stiles loaded up his fork and brought it to his lips, waiting for the younger man's reaction to the meal, he didn't have to wait long. Stiles honeycomb eyes falling shut in a moment of pleasure a satisfied moan slipping past his lips as taste danced across his tongue. Nick enjoyed watching Stiles immensely, the teen had the most...wonderful reactions, expressions and words so colorful and bright, it was a welcome change from the stuffy and bland individuals Nick found himself surrounded by on a daily basis.

"This...is really really good!" Stiles declared after swallowing his mouthful, his gaze meeting Nick's as he eagerly took another bite. Nick smiled proudly at the teen before beginning to eat his own.

The meal passed for the most part in a comfortable silence, Nick only breaking it once to offer Stiles a drink of fresh orange juice, which was gratefully accepted.

Placing down his fork on his empty plate Nick folded his arms in front of himself and leaned forward, his eyes staying glued to Stiles as he spoke his head tilting in curiosity "got any plans for the rest of the weekend?".

Nick found himself surprised, however, when instead of answering his question Stiles pursed his lips and gave him a narrowed look of suspicion. "Alright, dude, what gives?"

Blinking at the sudden turn of conversation, Nick furrowed his brows "I don't understand?".

Letting out a frustrated huff at his ignorance Stiles tried again, this time putting more of an explanation into his words. "I'm not an idiot. You've looked in the mirror lately, right? I mean, come on. You're built like fucking Thor! And I'm….I'm…" trailing off Stiles let his eyes fall shut for a brief moment before continuing softly, sadly "I'm me".

Tutting Nick padded softly around the island, coming to a stop beside the hunched over figure of his guest and steadily reached forward. His large warm hand cupping the side of Stiles's face with a gentleness that seemed almost out of place on someone of such a strong form, like Stiles was something precious which could break with just the slightest of pressure. Using his hold to turn Stiles's head towards the direction in which he now stood, Nick began rubbing his thumb across the cheekbone his gaze seeking Stiles as he deliberately maintained eye contact. "Is it really so hard to believe that someone would find you attractive? That I would find you attractive?".

Nose scrunching in an attempt to keep bitter tears from slipping past his eyelids Stiles simply shrugged. Sighing gently, Nick allowed a frown to pull at his lips before a new idea birthed in his mind. Reaching forward with the hand not occupied by cradling Stiles face, Nick's fingers grasped tightly at the material of the shirt bunched up at Stiles's hip and he pulled.

A startled gasp fell from Stiles's lips as his body fell flush against Nick's chiseled chest, his heartbeat racing faster than a hummingbird's wings, heat spreading outwards across his body from two areas where Nick's hands were placed. Fingers slipping underneath the hem of the shirt to toy with the smooth skin underneath, Nick licked his lips in a purposefully slow fashion, priding himself on the way Stiles eyes, pupils blown wide with attraction, desperately followed the movement of his tongue with unbridled want.

Leaning forward Nick brushed his lips teasingly down the side of Stiles' neck until they came to a stop over the pulse point. There, Nick's lips finally pressed down, wasting no time in beginning to lick the area and suckle, sharp teeth nibbling tantalizingly over the stimulated flesh.

Stiles overcome with arousal at Nick's experienced ministrations, grasped urgently at the older man's gorgeously thick upper arms, his nails digging in slightly. Unable to stop the hitching breaths escaping his lips or the way his body was pressing itself closer, Stiles simply gave into the feeling, bare toes curling in anticipation on the hardwood flooring.

Deeming his work done, Stiles neck marked by a circle of flush pink skin and branded with the slight indentation of his teeth, Nick pulled away with a smile. Capturing Stiles in his intense gaze once more Nick focussed on pouring as much sincerity as he could muster into his voice.

"Trust me Stiles. I find you very, very attractive".


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weekend from heaven ends far too soon for Stiles' liking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit shorter than my usual chapters so apologies!

Stiles POV

Monday morning rolled around far too quickly for Stiles's liking, the teen pouting as Nick woke him up, his sulk lasting long after breakfast in bed of oatmeal and blueberry pancakes and another amazing shower. Sleep which had previously evaded him for weeks on end came as naturally as breathing when in Nick's presence. Something Stiles was so immensely grateful for that he didn't stop to wonder why. Afterall, everyone says not to look a gift horse in the mouth right? So this is Stiles, taking the gift of being able to sleep for a solid eight hours two nights in a row.

Getting re-dressed in the outfit he wore to the club on Friday, freshly washed and dried thanks to Nick, Stiles only perked up when the other man offered to drive him to school. The conversation about Stiles's true age having occurred the previous night when Stiles, feeling guilty about lying, had come clean over dinner.

Nick had been a bit angry at first, mostly because Stiles had, in his exact words 'irresponsibly put himself in danger by getting drunk at a random club a hundred miles from his own home'. But, they had both talked it out calmly and Stiles promised not to go to the club anymore without Nick. Sure it was difficult for Stiles, and for a split second, he wanted to tell Nick to fuck off when he made the suggestion to Stiles, his mind raging at the idea of not being able to do what he wanted without a chaperone. But after taking one look into Nick's deep blue eyes, Stiles gave in. After all, Nick only wanted him to be safe, it's not like he was asking him to stop drinking or partying all together.

Jumping enthusiastically into Nick's beautifully restored classic car, a blood red 1969 chevy Camaro convertible with black vertical stripes across the hood, Stiles reached for the phone jack already plugged into the car. Slipping his phone out Stiles flicked through his songs before finding one that felt right as Nick lowered the roof letting the brilliant morning sun warm their heads. Starting the car Nick turned to Stiles and grinned, designer sunglasses perched low on his nose allowing him to throw in a salacious wink "ready to have the best ride of your life?". Stiles, who was too drunk to fully appreciate the experience of driving in a classic car the last time he was Nick's passenger, nodded before throwing out Rihanna reference "just shut up and drive".

Nick laughed loudly and hit the pedal.

By the time they reached the parking lot of Beacon Hills high school, it was already half eight and Stiles was certain Nick had broken more than a few speeding laws to get them there in time for his first period.

Stiles tried to pay no mind to the dozens of pairs of eyes which glued themselves to Nick's car as it pulled up. Students murmuring loudly to each other in appreciation of the vehicle as Stiles focussed on unplugging his phone and slipping it into his pocket. Puffing out his cheeks in embarrassment Stiles turned to Nick with an awkward shrug "sorry about this, high school students are like vultures and you're new meat". Waving his hand dismissively Nick gave a grin " I've dealt with teenagers before Stiles, Afterall, I was one myself once upon a time".

Rolling his eyes at Nick, Stiles snorted "Once upon a time? God, you're like 25 and you're talking like you're 300 years old". Nick let out a loud laugh at Stiles words before replying with a wiggle of his brows "760 actually, give or take a few years of course. Any immortal knows you stop counting after you hit five hundred".

Shaking his head Stiles grumbled in mock anger at Nick's teasing words, a pout pulling at his bottom lip "you're such a dick". Nick leant forward in a flash, stealing a chaste kiss from Stiles's unsuspecting lips, pulling back just enough so he could whisper smugly "yeah, but you love it". Seemingly pleased with the deep blush and goofy smile that spread across Stiles' face in response, Nick reached behind Stiles and unlocked the passenger door pushing it open.

"Now stop stalling and get to class".

Groaning Stiles climbed out of the car as Nick slid his sunglasses back over his eyes and turned the engine back on. Revving the engine Nick waved his fingers at Stiles, calling out over the powerful roaring of the vehicle "see you later darlin! Enjoy chemistry". Stiles who was already walking away threw his arm up, middle finger extended.

Resisting the urge to glance back as the sound of Nick leaving the car park echoed in his ears, Stiles sighed and headed into school. Ready for another day of fake smiles, teachers who hate him and a best friend who no longer wants anything to do with him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick is forced to put a nosey friend in their place

Nick's POV

Sighing in irritation Nick looked up from the paperwork on his desk and raised a brow at the feminine figure making their way into his study rudely without knocking.

Bright red ringlets of hair spilling over her shoulder, upper body clad in a simple leather jacket and white tank top combo, and paired with ripped skinny jeans and brown combat boots, Becky came to a stop in front of Nick's desk impish features pulled a smirk.

"Jasper tells me that you brought home a new one on Friday night" she remarked casually, her Scottish accent thick with intrigue. Most likely due to the fact Nick had not taken an interest in anyone since her own recruitment. Fresh meat was always a fun experience.

Leaning backward in his chair Nick arched a brow in irritation "setting aside the fact that Jasper should have kept his mouth shut about my activities, you should know I don't take pleasure in dishing out dirty details like a giggling school girl".

Becky took a seat in one of the ornate leather and cherry oak armchairs situated in front of Nick's desk, rolling her eyes whilst crossing one leg over the other. "You can't blame us for being curious Nicholas. You always manage to pick the best playthings".

Tongue pressing against his teeth Nick narrowed his gaze before correcting the redhead in a low rumble "he's not a plaything Becky".

Squinting her eyes at Nicholas for a split second Becky began to smirk, her eyes glinting as she commented mockingly "oh I see now. He's one of those, isn't he? It's been a while hasn't it Nick... When was the last one again? 1768? 69?".

Growling Nick flashed forward gripping the overconfident woman by the front of her top and dragging her close, his nose pressed to her as his lips pulled into a warning snarl "I suggest you quit whilst your head is still attached to your shoulders sweetheart". Seemingly unfazed by the man currently spitting venom meer millimeters from her face, Becky only furrowed her brows, jealousy pouring out from her body, her words vicious as they dug into wounds deep inside Nick, intending to hurt. "You'll never get what you want from them Nicky. No matter how hard you pretend to be someone they could love. They always see the real you. And they always leave in the end".

A few stuttering heartbeats passed where Becky was positive she had pushed too far, that her careless words would be her downfall, regret bubbling up like a tidal wave the urge to apologize rising along with it. Then, Nick simply deflated, his previously burning gaze falling downwards as his teeth chewed at his bottom lip in a strange show of vulnerability.

Fingers unclenching Nick let go of Becky, his hand smoothing over the material thoughtfully, a soft sad sigh permeating the air "perhaps you are right".

Letting a large exhale of relief Becky smiled proudly, not used to being able to speak sense into Nick, opening her mouth to speak again she was cut short.

Having already turned his back to her after letting her go, Nick flicked his fingers.

A terrified scream ripped through the air as Becky's smaller body propelled itself through the air, crossing the room at a great speed before slamming viciously into a bookshelf, books and splintered bits of wood cascading downwards. Waltzing over to her injured form slumped on the floor like a rag doll, Nick raised his hand summoning a wrought iron poker from the fireplace, twirling the weapon in his hands casually.

"You mistake my tolerance of you, for affection Rebecca"

Swishing the poker in the air Nick bent down beside the whimpering woman, his head tilted, the pointed tip of the metal dragging itself across the side of Becky's face in a mocking caress her whimpers getting louder in response, tears slipping from her eyes. "Maybe next time when I tell you to be quiet you will heed my words". Drawing a path across her body with the poker, stopping to hover over her shoulder, heart, abdomen and then upper thigh Nick mumbled to himself "eanie, meanie, minie, mo". Sighing in indecision Nick gave a short shrug before stabbing the poker down randomly, a dark smirk of satisfaction appearing on his face as Becky howled loudly in pain.

Ignoring the hysterical sobbing coming from the body beneath him Nick simply tightened his grip and twisted. "Let this be a lesson to the others too hmm? I'm the leader, my actions are unquestionable, any and ALL those who decide that they have a problem with this.. Well, they can take it up with me personally". Giving one final twist Nick yanked the poker back out, small droplets of blood spatter propelling themselves onto his face. Straightening out from his crouch Nick expertly avoided the rapidly growing puddle of red staining his previously pristine carpet.

Turning his back Nick walked across the room towards the large fireplace, delicately placing the poker back in its holder before returning to his desk, never once glancing back towards the softly crying woman on his floor. "Now leave me be. I have business to attend to and your sniveling is rapidly becoming insufferable". With that said Nick picked up his pen and began writing again, undisturbed by Becky who dragged herself up from the floor and staggered her way to the door, only halting in her efforts when hearing Nick begin to speak again. "Oh, and before you go home Becky dear, make sure you arrange for my office to be cleaned, you've left an awful mess after all".

"Yes Nicholas"

Hearing the door click shut Nick leant back in his chair with a disappointed sigh, he really liked that carpet, what a shame.

Reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket Nick pulled out a delicately embroidered handkerchief and started cleaning his face and hands of blood. Throwing the soiled cloth into a wastebasket at the side of his desk Nick glanced at his phone sitting on the desk, the screen flashing with a text alert.

Unable to quell the rising excitement coursing through his veins Nick grabbed the phone and opened the text, grinning at the multiple messages which represented the hyperactive teen's train of thought so well, almost as if he was speaking to Nick face to face.

From Bambi

Pretty sure Mr Harrison is Snape from HP.

No!

Wait!

He's a dementor :P

Letting out a small huff of laughter Nick quickly typed out his reply;

Does that make you Harry Potter then?

Ever since Nick had spotted Stiles Stilinski dancing in his club only a month ago, soul glowing brighter than a dying star in the vast endlessness of space, he had become curious about the boy. Although his subordinates would argue his curiosity leaned more heavily towards an unhealthy infatuation.

But that's okay. They just couldn't see what Nick could, and for that, he pitied them, because Stiles Stilinski had the potential to be something fantastic, something so….beautifully lethal that it took Nick's breath away. And Nick, well, Nick has spent his life searching for someone like Stiles, sure there had been a few candidates that didn't turn out the way he wanted, had pushed him away instead of embracing what he showed them. Stiles would be the last though, Nick was certain of it.

In the end, Stiles would prove himself worthy of being by Nick's side, his equal in every way.


	6. chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING- This chapter has a description of a panic attack and as a person with an anxiety disorder it was hard for me to write so I just wanted readers to know what was ahead.

Stiles POV

Morning classes passed in a blur, Stiles glued to his phone and texting Nick at whatever chance he could get. He even almost got caught by Harris in AP Chemistry, it was a close call but luckily one of his classmates tipped over a beaker of chemicals just in time for Stiles to slip his phone back into his backpack.

It was strange. The intensity in which Stiles found himself attracted towards Nick but, in some weird way Stiles understood why. Nick was his first.

Sure, Stiles had experienced his fair share of crushes in the past, Lydia being the main one for a very long time, Bucky Barnes.. because honestly? who didn't want a piece of Sebastian Stan's murder thighs! and then finally Derek, who obviously didn't return his feelings. Nick was the only one that had shown an equal amount of interest in him. It was nice, more than nice in fact, it was amazing.

Mindlessly grabbing his usual for lunch Stiles stole a secluded spot in the cafeteria, tucked away in the corner and close to the door. Snapping a picture of his meal, a tray of fries, a packet of grapes and a carton of chocolate milk, Stiles sent it to Nick with a witty caption.

Only thing safe to eat in this place :o

Plucking a bunch of fries between his fingers Stiles munched on them happily as he scribbled down a plan in his notebook for all the upcoming assignments and tests. John Stilinski remained blissfully aware of Stiles weekend activities but only because Stiles wasn't letting his grades slip, and since Stiles didn't intend on stopping his little out of town trips anytime soon, he needed to maintain the facade he had built.

Being distanced from the pack helped. No more late night escapades in the woods searching for the latest big bad, no more research binges that took priority over his school work, just Stiles, his empty house, and a hell of a lot of free time on his hands. He had so much free time in fact, that he had begun writing papers for college students for extra cash, turns out there are a lot of college students willing to pay good money just to avoid doing a bit of work, and that money went towards funding Stiles's weekend.

"Stiles! There you are!"

Yelping in surprise Stiles scrambled to get a hold of his phone, as he had been occupied with checking for a reply off Nick when Scott snuck up on him, nearly causing him to drop the precious device.

"Jesus Christ Scott! What the fucking hell?!".

One hand pressed to his rapidly beating heart the other gripping his phone tightly Stiles glared at Scott who had the audacity to glare right back, his uneven jaw set into a displeased scowl.

Sitting down roughly in the seat opposite Scott leant forward and hissed angrily "I could say the exact same to you, Stiles! Where the fuck have you been? I've been trying to contact you all weekend!". Rolling his eyes at his best friends anger Stiles shoved the last of his fries into his mouth and shrugged the lie falling so easily from his lips, his heart remaining steady "sorry dude, I was out of town getting new parts for Roscoe".

Deflating rapidly Scott rushed to apologize, his puppy dog eyes making a guest appearance "no Stiles, I'm sorry. I know how much the jeep means to you, I shouldn't have snapped".

Nodding Stiles took a sip of his chocolate milk, quickly changing the subject before he felt any guilt grow at lying to his friend "so what's the deal?". Oblivious as ever Scott fell for it and launched into a detailed recap of what had been happening over the past few weeks to himself and Allison. Apparently, Scott was losing control of the wolf, accidentally shifting into his beta-form in public at the slightest of provocations. Allison was experiencing hallucinations of her dead crazy aunt Kate and couldn't shoot a bow anymore cause of hand tremors.

Taking a deep breath Scott looked intensely at Stiles "so basically, Deaton said it's a side-effect of the sacrifice, that it's some sort of darkness around our hearts or whatever. And I know I haven't been able to spend a lot of time with you lately so I was wondering if you were okay?".

Chewing his bottom lip Stiles resisted the urge to yell loudly at Scott in front of the whole cafeteria. Is he okay? Is he okay? HA! What a fucking joke. Of course he wasn't okay! He spent most nights the past month waking up screaming bloody murder and on the verge of an emotional breakdown! Not that he was going to let Scott know that. No, Scott didn't have the right to swan back into Stiles's personal life whenever he wanted and get to act like he cared.

No. Fuck that shit.

Shaking his head Stiles lied once again "I'm good, I mean apart from some nightmares but that's hardly new. Nothing like you or Allison though, did Deaton say what you could do to try and get it to stop?". Hoping that he phrased the question casually enough not to spark any suspicion from Scott, Stiles waited patiently for him to answer only to be disappointed when Scott shook his head with a petulant frown.

"Nothing helpful, just his usual cryptic stuff and told us to 'close the doors in our minds', whatever the hell that means".

Opening up his packet of grapes Stiles popped one into his mouth and munched thoughtfully. Close a door in the mind, that was all he had to do to stop the nightmares then? Seems simple enough he guessed. Swallowing his mouthful Stiles furrowed his brow, a thought crossing his mind which he voiced to Scott "and what happens if you and Allison can't close the door?".

Eyes lowering Scott shuddered "Deaton said it will get worse, the darkness. That it would eventually drive us insane". Looking back up Scott gave Stiles a crooked smile "glad you're okay though dude, I was worried" his tone sincere but Stiles didn't believe him. After all, how come it had taken him so long to even think of checking on Stiles? The sacrifice had been more than a month ago and the symptoms appeared straight after for Stiles, somehow he doubted it was different for Scott or Allison. Keeping his poisonous thoughts to himself Stiles just smiled back at Scott before glancing at the time on his phone.

Gathering up his lunch tray and packing away his notebook Stiles apologized to Scott half-heartedly "sorry, I've got to go. AP world history is next and there's an in-class test", slipping on his backpack Stiles left the table in a hurry.

Jogging down the hall Stiles slipped his way discreetly into the out of order boys bathroom and locked himself into one of the stalls. Stiles slid down the stall door, slumping on the grimy floor with a thud. His thoughts replaying the conversation with Scott over and over, particularly the part about eventually going insane.

Flinching Stiles mind brought forth unbidden memories of his mother during the last few months of her illness, the feeling of her clawing at the skin of his face and arms during one of her episodes, the sound of her screeching hysterically echoing in his ears.

What if he ended up like her? Spending the rest of his days stuck between a drug-fueled haze and manic hysteria until his heart finally gives out from the stress..or..or until he ends it himself.

Oh god.

Curling into himself Stiles gripped his hair and tugged trying in vain to reign in his panic attack, his vision started to blur as the struggle to breath became too much, short panicked gasps escaping from his lips. Knowing instinctively that if he didn't do something fast he would pass out Stiles ripped his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number blindly.

Pressing the phone to his ear Stiles banged his head against the door behind him, tears slipping out of his tightly closed eyes and down his pale cheeks as he muttered hysterically under his breath "please pick up, please pick up. Please, oh god".

Heart pounding painfully against his ribcage Stiles gripped the material of his t-shirt tightly, terrified that the vital organ was going to propel itself out of his chest due to the sheer force that it was beating.

The line on the other end clicked signaling the person had picked up, a familiar soothing voice spilling into his ears "Stiles?".

Stiles loosened his grip on his t-shirt and let out a shaky breath of relief.

"Hey Sourwolf"


	7. chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek receives a worrying call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DEEERRREEEEEKK <3

Derek's POV

Flipping the page of his book Derek shifted a bit in his seat, adjusting and re-adjusting the position of his legs in order to find a comfortable spot to continuing reading, his legs cramping after remaining in the same position for too long. It had been an unusually quiet month in Beacon Hills (not that Derek was complaining of course) and the alpha was taking some much needed time to relax.

The loft was peaceful with Peter absent for the time being and Cora having already returned to South America upon Derek's insistence. He couldn't bear to lose more family, not when Boyd and Erica had both died whilst under his 'protection', and certainly not after that close call with the Darach's poison. So he sent her away with a smile and a promise to call her every weekend, hiding the agony he felt inside as another pack bond severed with a vicious snap leaving him feeling emptier and weaker than ever.

Biting any more humans was out of the question, however, even though the alpha inside raged at the prospect of being unable to expand like its instincts demanded it to, to grow stronger and surround itself with a pack. Instead, Derek decided to focus on helping the two young betas already residing in Beacon Hills and teach them everything his mother taught him.

And at first it was going great, Scott setting aside his disdain for Derek, working together with Isaac and becoming stronger, more in-tune with his inner wolf. Then Scott's symptoms started. Slowly at first, only flashes of his beta eyes peeking through during school or at home then came the claws and finally the fangs, the teen shifting into his full beta-form without any control whatsoever at any moment. After doing some serious questioning Derek had also found out that Allison was experiencing difficulties since the sacrifice too, although they manifested themselves in a different way.

The only one left out of the three was Stiles, and since Scott shamefully admitted that he hadn't been spending as much time with his best friend, Derek and the others had no way of knowing if the other teenager was suffering too. It worried Derek, not knowing. Not that he would ever admit it of course.

A loud buzzing noise interrupted Derek's peaceful haze, his eyes jumping from the pages of his book to the phone which sat on the coffee table, vibrating obnoxiously. Throwing the book down carelessly Derek reached for the phone, half expecting it to be Isaac telling Derek to come and get Scott because he had wolfed out during chemistry again.

Blinking in surprise at the name flashing on the screen Derek swiped answer and pressed the phone to his ear. "Stiles?"

The person on the other end breathed shakily before croaking out a weak greeting "hey sourwolf".

Derek could hear the fear in Stiles's voice and it made the alpha fly into overdrive, his eyes flashing red as he gripped the phone tighter "Stiles! What's wrong? What's happening?".

"Please"

A beat of silence passed which unnerved Derek even more, Stiles was rarely ever silent.

"Just… talk to me, please? I know, I know it's dumb and you probably have like a million more important things to do but… I just…" Stiles' voice broke off into a soft sob and Derek's heart ached at the sound.

He understood now.

Stiles was having a panic attack and he had called Derek to help him calm down. Derek used to do the exact same thing with Laura back in New York.

Motivated by the sudden intense need to comfort his unofficial pack member brought forward by memories of his teenage self after the fire, Derek set his features into a look of pure determination and began what would probably be the longest ever conversation he had held with Stiles Stilinski.

"It's okay Stiles. I don't mind. I was just reading a book actually" Derek then proceeded to launch into a detailed explanation of the book he was halfway through, the characters, the plotline, what he liked about it etc until the breathing on the other end steadied out.

A disbelieving chuckle echoed in Derek's ear "didn't peg you for a romantic novel type of guy Der-bear".

Rolling his eyes Derek replied in mock annoyance "I'm secure enough in my sexuality that I can enjoy a good love story, Stiles".

A strangled noise followed his comment which made Derek's lip twitch into a small smirk, he's known for a while that Stiles harbored a crush on him, what with the teens smell flooding with the delicate spice of arousal whenever their bodies got particularly close during an argument, which was often to say the very least. Derek would be lying to himself if said the feelings of attraction weren't reciprocated, but, Derek can't have Stiles. Can't risk more heartbreak or loss because he had the audacity to believe that he deserved love and happiness, not after everything he'd done.

So Derek kept his distance, ignored the lingering stares from Stiles and the irritatingly knowing looks from his uncle because Stiles would thank him one day, Derek was sure of it, and when Stiles's crush finally dies out and he moves onto someone who deserves his love, Stiles will forgive him.

Derek's advanced hearing picked up shuffling sounds in the background on Stiles end of the phone, the alpha suppressing a laugh as Stiles swore loudly to himself "shit! I'm late for class. Sorry, Derek, I've got to go, thanks for the...well...you know. Don't mention it to Scott or anything though, please. It's embarrassing". Sighing Derek leant back into the sofa mentally cursing idiot teenagers and their inability to share their emotions like healthy human beings, not that Derek could talk without sounding like a massive hypocrite though.

"Alright, just...look after yourself okay Stiles? And don't hesitate to call. For anything." Derek spoke into the phone, hoping that Stiles would listen to him on this at least.

A long silence stretched out and Derek worried he had pushed too far, had gotten too personal when Stiles was still more Scott's pack than Derek's but...Derek cared. Cared more for the teen then he would ever admit, and he hoped, god he hoped, hoped that somewhere in Stiles mind he knew that Derek cared.

"Sure, yeah. Talk to you later sourwolf" the teenager replied hesitantly before hanging up on Derek abruptly. Pulling his phone away from his ear Derek stared at the screen in deep thought, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

He needed to tell Scott to keep an eye on Stiles.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles coping with the aftermath of the panic attack and a surprise appearance from a pack member

Stiles POV

The rest of the school day passed in a blur, Stiles moving through the motions numb and exhausted from his panic attack, go to class, listen to the teacher, write notes, pack up and repeat. Finally, the bell rang and Stiles packed up for the last time and left class, making his way towards his locker, head down, thoughts moving like sludge.

Placing his books into his locker Stiles slammed the door shut, placing his forehead against the dull rusted metal and inhaling deeply through his nose before exhaling, repeating the process a few times in a bid to rid himself of the headache rapidly building behind his eyelids.

A hand landed on his shoulder startling him violently out of his fugue state, barely stopping himself from letting out a yell Stiles spun around to face the person behind him. Vision swimming from the rapid motion and the light flooding back into his reopened eyes Stiles took a second to recognize the figure.

Softly curled strawberry blonde hair and wide hazel eyes.

"Lydia" Stiles breathed finally putting the pieces together in his brain. The banshee arched a brow at his behavior, the concerned downward pull of her red stained lips deepening "I was calling your name for ages Stiles".

Tucking his obsessively twitching fingers into his jean pockets Stiles shrugged with an apologetic smile, an excuse tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop it "sorry Lyds I must have zoned out. I haven't been getting much sleep lately". Squinting her eyes Lydia placed a hand on her hip "Scott told me about your little talk at lunch. Why didn't you tell any of us you were having nightmares?".

Sighing tiredly Stiles leaned back against the locker, his shoulders slumping "because they're just nightmares, Lydia. It's nothing new, and it certainly isn't anything to worry about like with Allison and Scott". Rolling her eyes Lydia huffed frustrated at his excuses "you still should have told us! And then Scott mentioned you left in a hurry? Said something about an AP history test. I have that class with you Stiles, and there certainly wasn't any test today. There wasn't even a class".

Feeling more and more cornered by Lydia's questioning Stiles licked his lips and propelled himself off the locker, sliding past Lydia like water around a rock. Turning so he faced the banshee Stiles began to walk backward, desperate to escape the situation. "Like I said Lydia, I'm tired. I got the days mixed up. I, I have to go though, so I'll see you around. Tell Allison I said hi".

As soon as the words finished leaving his mouth, Stiles spun on his heel and started to jog down the busy hallway, expertly dodging and weaving through the bustling students in order to make it to the door. Pushing open the door Stiles tripped over his feet in his haste to exit the building, sneakers scuffing themselves on the pavement as he descended the steps into the parking lot.

Chest rising and falling rapidly Stiles reigned back his panic just barely and focussed on finding the familiar baby blue shade of his jeep. Nick had promised he would get a friend to drop it off whilst Stiles was in class, Stiles had agreed of course, but only after a session of very passionate persuasion involving roaming hands and hungry tongues.

After a few intense seconds, Stiles's roaming eyes finally landed on the safe haven that was his jeep, his feet scurrying towards it with renewed vigor. Long pale fingers grasped at the handle and yanked the door open, Stiles sliding into the driver's seat and pulling the door closed behind him. Finally, safe within the familiar comforting confines of his mother's old car Stiles let out a heavy breath, the weight easing from his chest slightly as oxygen found its way into his lungs.

Stiles slumped in his seat, one hand running through his hair whilst the other reached instinctively for the ignition in order to turn the key, only for the tips of his fingers to meet thin air instead. Hand curling back into his lap in confusion, Stiles searched the dashboard for any sign of the key he'd given to Nick that morning before something caught the corner of his eye on the passenger side.

There, waiting for him on the seat was a rectangle of white card, his name written in obscenely elegant font across the surface, his car keys, and a single white calla lily. Smile stretching across his face Stiles picked up the card turning it over and reading the handwritten inscription on the back;

Safe and sound. Just as promised

Yours

Nicholas

Blood rushing to the surface of his cheeks staining them a bright pink, Stiles smoothed his thumb over the black ink, his heart thumping giddily at the feeling of deep affection which erupted in his chest from reading the words. Sliding the note into his jean pocket for safekeeping Stiles moved onto the lily which sat delicately on the seat, a shining blue ribbon tied into a loose bow around the thick green stem. Bringing the flower to his face Stiles took a deep inhale, his smile widening at the delicate scent which tickled his senses. Fingers twisting around the ribbon Stiles's mind flashed back to a drunken memory from Friday night;

"Your eyes *hic* are soooooooo ooooo *hic* pretty" Stiles cooed whilst staring into the older man's endless blue gaze.

"Hm really?" Nick hummed amused as Stiles nodded.

"Yah*hic*, cus they're BL *hic* OOO! Bloo ish pretty. S'ma falv-favu FUCK, favourrriit-t-t-t colour" he declared firmly, his tongue stumbling over the words a few times before managing to slur out what he wanted to say.

Feeling a unique combination of embarrassment at the memory and fondness at Nick for remembering his drunken ramblings, Stiles gave the lily one last sniff before putting it safely back onto the seat and scooping up his keys. Slotting them into the ignition Stiles turned on the engine, ready to return home, his mood considerably brightened and his mind clear.

That night making dinner for himself and eating alone didn't seem so bad, the deep aching loneliness that usually clung to him like a thick smog having lifted, for the time being, allowing Stiles some semblance of peace. After writing a quick note for his dad to tell him that his dinner was in the fridge and just needed to be reheated, Stiles headed upstairs to his bedroom the lily clutched in one hand and a small glass vase in the other.

Washing and changing into his pajamas Stiles placed the vase filled with fresh water and with the lily inside on his nightstand before digging around in his dirty jeans for the note and putting that safely in a drawer. Checking his alarm was set for the morning, Stiles bid Nick goodnight through text and snuggled into the covers his eyes slipping closed easily.

He forgot all about the nightmares.


	9. chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nightmares are getting worse, and all Stiles can do is scream himself awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this chapter could be classed as truly "graphic" but I'm being safe because I value my readers ^-^ 
> 
> WARNING GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF BLOOD AND INJURIES, DROWNING AND NIGHTMARES

Stiles POV 

 

He was….he was..

Drowning.

Liquid in his lungs, pouring down his throat and flooding his nose, burning, burning, burning inside whilst the water surrounding him was so cold. Cold enough to send sharp shocks of pain stabbing into his bare skin, drilling through sinew and muscle and bone. He could feel his heartbeat slowing, the sound of it pounding in his eardrums becoming few and far between until finally… it..stopped. 

Gasping Stiles lurched forward, his hands grappling desperately at the sides of the metal tub, his body throwing itself out of the freezing water and onto the white tiled flooring with a loud wet slap. 

Shivering violently Stiles slowly picked himself off the floor, a vague sense of familiarity ringing through his mind as he took in the endless expanse of white stretching out in front of him. 

He’s been here before.

Running his fingertips across the metal rim of the tub Stiles bit his bottom lip in concentration before understanding slotted into place. The Darach had kidnapped his dad for the last part of the ritual. He needed to find his dad. 

Starting with a jog, then breaking into a full-on sprint Stiles yelled urgently “DAD!!! DAD!!! DAD!!?”. 

Eons passed where Stiles felt like he had run for miles and screamed his throat sore before his eyes landed on anything other than gleaming tiles and bright fluorescent lights, when suddenly, just in the distance appeared the Nemeton. 

Slowing down Stiles approached the tree stump with weary footsteps, his eyes searching the surface of the ancient tree for any hidden dangers, and finding none. Reaching out almost instinctively Stiles leant forward, his ears picking up the faint sound of whispering coming from the large crack on the surface. If he could just.. get close enough, maybe he could make out what the voices were saying? They might tell him where his dad is. 

“Stiles?”

Freezing just centimeters away from touching the bark at the sound of his name being called, Stiles turned his head and stared at the face of his father, his brows furrowed in confusion at the older man’s expression of pure sadness and disappointment. 

“Why did you do it, Stiles?”

Stomach churning Stiles shook his head vehemently, dread creeping into his bones as his father spoke. The desperate urge to stop the disappointed stare currently drilling into his very soul, swelled rapidly inside his chest like a balloon, a denial falling from his lips “I didn’t..I didn’t do anything, I swear Dad. I didn’t”. 

Curling his lip into an uncharacteristic sneer in response to his words, his dad lowered his eyes staring accusingly to where Stiles' hand remained, hovering in the air. Chest squeezing in panic Stiles snapped his gaze back to where the Nemeton sat ominously underneath his palm, only, the tree wasn’t there anymore. 

It was a body.

Knees buckling, Stiles collapsed to the floor in horror, a sob falling from his lips. 

“Mom?” 

Heaving in breaths that never quite seemed to fill his lungs Stiles reached out in shock, his shaking fingers gently touching her face. Her skin was ice cold underneath his hands, her lips a startling shade of pale blue. “Mom? Mom please, please wake up” mumbling weakly to himself Stiles searched her face for any signs of life, hope fading fast as she remained unresponsive, her usually glistening brown eyes painfully empty.

“She’s not going to wake up Stiles. You made sure of that”

Blinking rapidly in order to rid himself of the tears clouding his vision Stiles let out a scream as his mother’s face flickered like an old untuned television, blood seeping out of her unseeing eyes as she sprung to life.

Screeching like a banshee the reanimated corpse launched itself on top of Stiles, sending him flying onto his back, knocking all of the air out of his lungs. Wheezing, Stiles threw up his arms as a flurry of talon-like nails dug into his flesh. Crying out desperately for his dad to help him “DAD! DAD PLEASE!!!” but the nails just dug deeper, tearing at the skin and causing blood to rise. 

“You deserve this Stiles. You’re a murderer. You were there in that hospital room, watching her struggling to breathe. She reached out for you Stiles! And what did you do?”

Sobbing loudly Stiles tried all he could to fight off the assault but found it useless against the figure which pinned him down with an almost supernatural strength. 

“WHAT.DID.YOU.DO!!” his dad’s voice yelled at him from above, the question breaking through the inhuman sounds coming from the thing with his own mother’s face. Undeterred by Stiles current inability to answer, his dad continued on, disgust dripping from his words like sulphuric acid.

“You just sat there wishing she would hurry up and die didn’t you?”

“Well, you got your wish, Stiles. I lost my wife and I’m stuck with a murderer for a son” a dark laugh echoed “at least until you murder me too”

 

“NO!!”

Lurching upwards Stiles' eyes flew open as the dream finally released him from its poisonous clutches. Cold sweat trickled down the nape of his neck and down his spine, pooling at the waistband of his flannel pajama bottoms. Rubbing his shaking hands across his face Stiles tried to concentrate on slowing down his heartbeat before it gave out from exhaustion. 

Once his heartbeat returned to its semi-regular pace, Stiles stumbled his way out of the bed, tripping slightly from the sheets twisted around his legs, before making his way towards his small ensuite bathroom. Slapping on the light Stiles approached the sink, placing in the plug as he twisted the cold tap, cupping his hands underneath the faucet while the water ran filling up the sink. Hands cradling the tap water Stiles threw them up towards his lowered face, splashing it with the cool liquid. Repeating the process another three to four more times, Stiles only stopped when the heavy press of sleep eased from his mind, leaving him exhausted but slightly more aware. 

Blinking the droplets of water from his lashes Stiles looked at the water in the sink with a sort of detached sense of confusion, the water was a dusky pink, almost as if someone had mixed it with red ink.

The next thing Stiles noticed was the incessant throbbing pain coming from both his forearms. Holding his arms out in front of him Stiles barely bit back a yell at the sight of multiple thin lacerations across his skin. The areas of the skin surrounding the scratches appearing red and inflamed indicating that the wounds were fresh. Swallowing the bile rising in his throat at the memory of his nightmare Stiles frantically inspected his hands, finding the tips of his fingers stained red with flakes of blood embedded underneath the nails.

Slowly Stiles put the pieces together, realizing with a heavy sigh that he must have clawed himself whilst in the throws of his dream. 

Pulling out the plug Stiles refilled the sink, this time with warm water, as he set about gathering the first aid supplies needed to clean and then wrap his arms. After all the trouble the pack and Stiles had faced, he had learned a thing or two about basic first aid and always keeping a well-stocked supply. 

Dipping a cotton ball in the warm water Stiles slowly bathed the worst of the wounds which he found to be on the outside of his right forearm, taking extra care with the three particularly deep jagged cuts spanning approximately five centimeters. Hissing in pain through clenched teeth, Stiles finished cleaning the area before moving onto his other arm which had considerably fewer, and much more shallow scratches. Patting both arms dry Stiles applied a non-adhesive dressing pad to the cuts on the right, deeming them a bit too deep to be left uncovered. After securing the pad to his arm with some gauze Stiles left the rest of the cuts and started packing away the supplies.

Draining and then rinsing out the sink in order to get rid of any lingering blood Stiles headed back into his room, collapsing on the bed with an exhausted groan. Glancing at the alarm clock on his nightstand Stiles groaned once again, the red numbers flashing mockingly at him. 

3.30 am

Fully accepting the fact that he wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep, Stiles focussed on getting some of his school work done and some of the college assignments finished and sent off. 

By the time 7:30 had rolled around Stiles was already downstairs eating an unhealthily large bowl of sugary cereal, already dressed for the day in a grey t-shirt and a red zip-up hoodie combo with skinny jeans. Bandages and still healing scratches hidden safely underneath the long sleeves of his hoodie, Stiles rested easy, doubting anybody would have the sense to question why he was wearing a hoodie in the 90-degree weather. Or rather, he doubted anybody would care enough to ask.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another long day at school ends with a surprise visitor waiting at his door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a bit longer to post because I wrote it with like THREE different endings which lead to different routes for the next chapter. I finally settled on one that felt the most natural so enjoy! :P

Stiles POV

 

It turned out Stiles was right, all of his teachers except one had barely given his hoodie a second glance. Surprisingly, the one that did was coach Finstock, although Stiles was pretty sure that was because of his really bad excuse to get out of gym class and not his inappropriate summer clothing. Apparently, saying you have a really itchy genital rash earns you a get out of gym-free card as well as a particularly disturbed look and a grumbled “see the damn nurse, Balinski”. 

Upon deeper reflection, however, telling his lacrosse coach, gym, and economics teacher that he had a rash on his dick would probably rank just outside of his top ten most embarrassing moments. 

So, all in all, Stiles had a rather productive day, managing to both avoid taking his hoodie off and dodge false concern from his so-called friends, all whilst functioning on less than four hours sleep. 

Tapping the steering wheel Stiles hummed a mindless tune to himself as he turned into his street, his eyes squinting in suspicion as he spotted a figure perched casually on steps leading up his house’s front porch. Driving closer Stiles started to grin. 

It was Nicholas.

Pulling into the driveway Stiles leaped out of the jeep, slamming the door a little too roughly behind him in his enthusiasm. Trying to play-off his excitement Stiles leaned against the jeep and stuffed his hands into his hood pockets “you do know we saw each other yesterday morning right?”.

Placing a hand over his heart Nick feigned a hurt expression as he stood up “are you getting tired of me already, my dear?”. Rolling his eyes Stiles shook his head with a smile as Nick strode towards him.

“I think it’s more likely that you’ll get sick of me”

Coming to a stop in front of him, his thick muscled chest just inches away from touching Stiles own, Nick placed his hands on either side of Stiles’s head and stared earnestly into his eyes.

“Does a flower tire of the sun? Or a fish grow weary of the sea?”

Huffing out a soft laugh Stiles ducked his head, burying his face into Nick’s neck in an attempt to hide the blush flushing his cheeks, mumbling against the smooth skin. “You are the MOST cheesy person I have ever met”. 

Nick wrapped his arms around Stiles and squeezed gently, it was nice to be held. The pressure, the warmth spreading from his boyfriend's body into his, the smell! God knows Stiles can’t get enough of how Nick smells, the comforting mixture of spice, sandalwood, and citrus filling his senses and soothing his mind.

Pulling away before the urge to hide in Nick’s arms forever became too much, Stiles gave the blonde a cheeky grin “so, is there a reason why you’re hanging out on my porch step like a creeper?”. 

“I will have you know, that I am a romantic creeper” Nick corrected with a pout before continuing “I actually came here to invite you out to dinner, I even booked us a table at my favourite Italian restaurant”. 

“Like a date?” Stiles blinked, shocked.

Tucking his hands into his loose fit dark blue jeans, Nick rocked back on the heels of his brown lace-up brogues, his soft cream coloured henley pulling taut across his chest, emphasizing the muscles which made Stiles go all fuzzy inside. “Yes, a date. Our first date in fact, after all, I can’t have you thinking that my idea of a good first date was getting drunk at a nightclub”. 

Chewing his lip Stiles seemed to contemplate the offer for a second before grinning at Nick “alright then. But you have to let me change first okay?”. Smiling, pleased, Nick nodded in agreement “take as long as you need, the reservation isn’t until seven anyways”. 

“Come on then. You can wait downstairs whilst I take a quick shower and get changed” reaching forward Stiles gripped Nick’s hand and steered him towards the door, his free hand pulling the keys from the back pocket of his jeans. 

Opening the door Stiles lead Nick into the living room, depositing him gently on the couch before rushing to the stairs, calling over his shoulder with a light laughing tone “don’t worry about my dad coming home! He’s working late, like always”. 

\---time skip---

True to his word Stiles only took a short time to freshen up in the shower and to change the dressing on his right arm, the scratches having started bleeding again sometime during the day and seeped through onto the bandage. 

But now? Now Stiles was stuck staring blankly into his closet at a complete loss as to what to wear.   
He had been staring for fifteen minutes now and was still no closer to picking out an outfit, sighing Stiles rubbed the palm of his hand over his face, silently wishing he wasn’t on such bad terms with the pack, if only so he could ask Lydia for advice. She always knew what made people look good. 

Well, Stiles knew for certain one thing she’d definitely tell him not to wear... plaid, which was a giant dilemma because 90% of his wardrobe consisted of plaid, or graphic t-shirts which he was also pretty certain wasn’t appropriate for a dinner date. Groaning loudly Stiles grabbed a random pair of loose fit jeans, a black t-shirt, and a red plaid shirt. Screw Lydia and her fashion opinions, plaid would have to do.

After dressing himself all that was left for Stiles to do was to try and tame his hair. As usual the dark brown, almost black coloured strands were sticking up in every direction, almost as if he had been electrocuted. Having long since given up on trying to style it into anything less chaotic, Stiles simply added a bit of gel and decided to tell himself it looked tastefully disheveled and not at all like he’d just rolled out of bed.

Having already taken approximately 45 minutes, fifteen more minutes than he would have originally liked, Stiles finally sucked up the courage and made his way downstairs to where Nick was stood staring at the photographs displayed on the fireplace. 

“I just need to grab my shoes and then I’m good to go. Sorry for taking so long” Stiles apologized as Nick turned around with a warm smile.

“You have a lovely home, Stiles”

Snorting Stiles shook his head in disbelief “yeah say’s the guy with a bathroom bigger than most people’s kitchens”. 

Nick rolled his eyes and smirked at the teen “you know if I didn’t know any better. I’d say you were just using me for my amazing bathing facilities”. 

Laughing loudly Stiles made his way to where Nick was standing and gripped the back of his beck, his fingers twisting around loose dirty blonde strands as he tugged the old man closer for a deep kiss. Lips pressed hungrily against Nick’s plump mouth Stiles ran his tongue against the bottom lip, stomach fluttering pleasantly as Nick responded enthusiastically, their mouths moving against each other in a slow and sensual dance. Kissing Nick was an experience that Stiles was convinced he’d never get used to, it made his heart race and blood pump hot through his veins, his entire being lighting up with sensations previously unknown to him. It was addictive and Stiles found he couldn’t get enough of it, couldn’t get enough of Nick as a whole. 

Pulling away slightly, Stiles gazed at Nick from beneath his lashes, his lips a deep shade of pink from the kissing, his pupils blown wide almost swallowing the whole of his iris. Deep breaths mixing sweetly with Nick’s exhales, Stiles slowly trailed his hand from the back of Nick’s neck, letting go of the strands of hair in favour of spreading his fingers across the breadth of Nick’s warm chest, and sighing guiltily. 

“You’re right, I really am only using you for your multiple showerhead system” 

Basking for a few seconds in the warm sound of Nick’s laugh, Stiles turned away and headed off to the hallway to put on his converse.


	11. chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another glimpse into Nick's mind reveals the lengths to which he's willing to go to in order to make sure Stiles belongs to him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NIIICKKKK! magic-whammy-ing people is rude and so is snooping! >:( no, I kidd. I secretly love you my little psychopathic munchkin!!!

Nick’s POV

 

To say that Nick was happy to be invited into Stiles’s home was an understatement. He was ecstatic! By inviting him inside, Stiles had not only made it inexplicably clear that he trusted Nick, but he had also given Nick a unique chance to study the home in which Stiles grew up and to gather more vital information.

Nick grinned to himself as Stiles left him in the living room, throwing a parting quip about his father not being home, giving Nick a glimpse into the strained relationship, Stiles emotions spiking bitterly at the comment about aforementioned adult always working late.

Leaning back into the sofa Nick closed his eyes and concentrated, his magic seeping out and spreading across the house like tendrils of invisible smoke, brushing over every surface and absorbing the memories and emotions attached. Nick paused over certain objects which held his interest, his head cocking as he examined the item in his mind's eye.

The first object which caught his attention was the bottle of half empty bottle of cheap whiskey underneath the kitchen sink. Images flashed, an older man with a familial resemblance to Stiles spending countless late nights clutching the bottle, drowning his grief in the amber liquid whilst his son watched from the shadows. Resentment and guilt smothering the object like a cloud.

Smirking Nick stopped at a few more items, a chipped worlds best dad mug, and an elementary school report card from almost 8 years ago, still stuck on the fridge in pride of place, the card displaying A’s and B’s along with a faded yellow smiley sticker. Nick’s magic revealing why it was still there, it was the last report card Stiles got before his mother got really sick, the woman having placed the item on the fridge herself. In the cupboard underneath the stairs sat an old wooden baseball bat and glove set, tainted with bittersweet memories of Stiles spending sunny weekends in the garden playing catch with his dad whilst his mother watched on, a tray of homemade pink lemonade in her hands ready.

Moving on to the upstairs of the house Nick used his magic to quickly check that Stiles was still busy getting ready, after all, it wouldn’t do to have the teen discover his new boyfriend wasn’t human just yet. Content that Stiles was still occupied in the shower Nick focussed on the teen's bedroom, taking the time to let his magic soak in the pure, addictive essence of Stiles that saturated the whole area. Every object in the room humming and glowing with the soft iridescent hue of Stiles dormant spark. Nick had seen many magical auras in his extended lifetime and yet, none quite compared to the beauty of the one that Stiles possessed, the way the shades of blue, green, yellow, purple and red pulsed like a supernova.

Nick grinned as he noticed the Calla lily he had gifted Stiles sitting innocently in a vase on the teen's bedside table, the flower presenting the perfect opportunity for him to proceed further with his plan. Magic curling around the thick stem Nick infused the flower with a part of himself, the pure white petals shimmering black before returning to normal. Now, Nick had his very own key into the Stilinski household, the previously innocent bloom providing a doorway for Nick to visit Stiles as often as he liked.

Nick pulled his magic back, cracking his neck and standing up from the sofa. He’d grown bored of snooping. Pulling out his phone he typed out a text message whilst whistling a little tune to himself, some incessant pop song he’d heard on the radio and now couldn’t get out of his head.

**I want that book found and delivered to me by the end of the week Tobias. It would suit you best not to test my patience any longer.**

Slipping his phone back into the pocket of his jeans Nick turned his attention towards the set of photographs on the fireplace, picking up the one showing the grinning face of a six year old Stiles striking a pose in a Batman costume. Placing it back down with a fond smile Nick moved onto the next frame, the one holding a professional photo of Stiles and both of his parents, their arms wrapped around each other and smiling like a picture-perfect family. The third and last picture on the mantle was one depicting Stiles dressed in a red and white sports jersey, his pale skinny arm thrown over the shoulder of a floppy haired Latino boy with an uneven jaw and big brown eyes. Cocking his head Nick observed the shorn hairstyle Stiles donned in the photograph, silently glad that the teen had grown his hair out as he was quite fond of running his fingers through the messy strands.

Suddenly the sound of Stiles loudly descending the stairs reached his ears, followed shortly by a slightly out of breath apology.

The verbal exchange between himself and Stiles was always something Nick found amusing, the teen’s sarcasm and wit keeping him on his toes like a good game of chess, the challenge to be one step ahead of your opponent. It was because of this, that Nick often found himself unable to guess what Stiles would do or say next, so when Stiles walked towards him the last thing he expected was to be pulled into a heated kiss.

Almost instinctively he responded, the urge to press himself closer and consume every inch of Stiles spreading like wildfire in his heart, but he held back, letting Stiles take the lead in an unusual display of submission. The younger man was becoming more confident in their intimacy, more willing to initiate physical contact rather than wait for Nick. Of course, it helped that Nick was quickly weaving himself into every aspect of the boy's life, burying his influence magically into Stiles fractured mind with every brush of skin and stolen kiss. He would make sure Stiles never left him, not like the others.

Stiles pulled away with a witty remark about only using him for his double shower head and Nick couldn’t help but laugh, knowing just how untrue the statement was.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner, sweet goodnights, and fights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter this time! mainly because it didn't feel right stopping halfway through in a natural cliffhanger so I just flowed with it :P ENJOY!!! *waves arms*

Stiles POV

“I’m serious! I just walked right over to him in the sandbox, pulled down my pants and peed on his sandcastle!!”

Snorting with laughter Stiles brought the wine glass to his lips and took a sip as Nick laughed loudly at his story, his blue eyes twinkling as he threw his head back. Placing down the glass Stiles continued his story with a melancholy smile. 

“That’s not even the best bit! Scottie bless his heart, just stood up, pulled down his shorts and started peeing too!”

“So there we are, four years old, standing in a sandbox, and laughing like maniacs as we pee all over this shitty little sandcastle. And since that moment, it’s like we’ve been inseparable...or at least..we used to be” Stiles finished, his heart clenching painfully at how different everything’s been with Scott lately, how distant they’ve become. 

As if sensing his shift in mood, Nick reached out across the table and took Stiles’ hand in his, entwining their fingers with a gentle smile. “Whatever it is going on between you two, I’m sure you’ll sort it out”. Staring down at his half eaten plate of spinach and mushroom pasta, Stiles squeezed Nick’s hand and shrugged a shoulder sadly. “I doubt it. I think it’s been a long time coming, us outgrowing each other. I.. tried to hold on and it was stupid and selfish but I’ve realized something” taking a deep breath in a bid to stop any traitorous tears Stiles continued with a slightly more bitter laugh “we can’t stay kids in the sandbox forever”. 

Nick raised his brows at Stiles words but nodded in understanding, grasping his wine glass with his free hand he raised it in Stiles’ direction in the motion of a toast, a bright smile plastered across his lips, teeth glinting in the candlelight “then here’s to new beginnings”. 

Licking his lips Stiles raised his glass, mirroring Nick perfectly, the rim of their glasses making a tinkling noise as they made contact, rich red wine sloshing up the sides.

“To new beginnings” he echoed. 

\---time skip---

The full moon hung in the sky, shining beams of liquid silver down onto Nick’s face as they stood on his porch, lingering like fools in the slightly chilly air. 

Scuffling the ground slightly with the toe of his shoe Stiles crossed his arms and gazed at Nick from lowered lids, and blew out a slow breath trying and failing to think up of a way to make the night with Nick last longer. 

“Sooo.. thank you, for tonight I mean. Tonight was good, great, tonight was great”.

God damn it.

Wincing at his awkward wording, Stiles squashed down the urge to kick himself out of embarrassment as Nick just laughed gently. “I had a wonderful time tonight too. You are by far, the best company I’ve had in a long while, Stiles”. Biting back a smile Stiles rolled his eyes, his arms relaxing from their crossed state as he quipped naturally “flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Campbell”. 

At his teasing words, Nick pouted, stepping closer “really? And here I thought it would at least get me a goodnight kiss”. Grasping one of Stiles’ hands in his, Nick rubbed his thumb across the bony knuckles. Bending slowly whilst bringing Stiles’ hand upwards, Nick executed a perfect imitation of a bow straight out of a Jane Austen movie, pressing his lips gently to flesh in a whisper of a kiss. 

Blushing like a lobster with a bad fever and in a vain attempt to hide just how much the simple romantic gesture had affected him, Stiles cleared his throat loudly “you’re really going to run this whole ‘English Gentleman’ thing into the ground aren’t you?”. 

“Of course” Nick grinned.

Pressing one last kiss to Stiles’ knuckles Nick bid the teen a soft goodnight and headed towards his car, Stiles watching him go with a sad sigh, knowing that he wouldn’t be seeing the older man again until Friday. 

Entering the house, Stiles kicked off his shoes and threw his keys into the crystal bowl beside the door, prepared for another night in a silent house. 

“Stiles, who the hell was that?!”

Well shit.

 

~#~#~#~#~ Nick’s POV

 

Nick smirked as he drove away, the evening having gone even better than expected, and Nick had already expected the evening to go very well. 

Stiles was a vision as always, dressed so simply in a plaid shirt, jeans, and converse but still looking better than any man in a fancy suit. Nick would, of course, have to introduce the teen to a more sophisticated wardrobe once he began living with him, but for now, the cheap plaid and dirty converse were... endearing.

Then came the delightful surprise of Papa Stilinski himself being home when Nick dropped Stiles back off after their date. Stiles didn’t notice, the cruiser not being parked anywhere in sight to indicate that his own father was home but Nick felt the presence like a warning humm in the back of his mind. 

Nick also felt the intense suspicion and barely controlled anger rolling off the man when he watched him kiss the hand of his teenage son through the parted curtains. It took almost everything in his willpower not to wiggle his fingers at the man whilst walking away, like battling the insane urge to provoke an already angry lion. And whilst Nick was 100% certain he would win a fight against the older human, he figured Stiles would hardly appreciate seeing his boyfriend kill his father, at least, not so early on in their relationship. 

They were still just getting to know each other after all. 

The shrill noise of his phone ringing loudly broke Nick’s internal musings about the eventual fate of a certain Sheriff. One hand still securely on the wheel as he drove out of Beacon Hills, Nick used the other to swipe accept and press the device to his ear and singing in a false cheery tone. “You better be calling me with good news or you’ll find your intestines relocated to the outside of your body very very soooooon” 

A familiar sigh echoed over the other end of the phone.

“You know, I think one of the main reasons you don’t have any friends Nicholas is because you threaten to heavily maim everyone, constantly.” 

Pouting childishly Nick pressed his foot on the pedal as the traffic cleared ahead, stating petulantly “I have tons of friends”. The man on the other end of the phone only laughed harshly “your coven doesn’t count, they only follow you because they’re scared of you, as they should be”. 

Pout turning into a sharp grin, Nick preened at the other man’s words, even though he knew they were meant to be an insult to his character. “And I suppose you’re not my friend then either Tobias?”. 

“We have a business relationship and nothing more”

Rolling his eyes Nick opened his mouth to retort about their relationship having been more than just business a few decades back but was cut off by an idiot in a pickup truck overtaking him, almost causing him to veer off to the side of the road. Clicking his tongue in disapproval Nick watched as the driver of the car flashed their lights at him in a taunting fashion. 

“Excuse me Tobias, but I have a rather annoying pest problem I need to take care of. I’ll have to call you back”. Not waiting for a reply Nick hung up the phone and proceeded to take a detour, following the truck at a discreet distance until it pulled into the driveway of a little two-story house. 

Parking down the street Nick climbed out of the car and made his towards the house in a slow steady stride, the street lamps switching off as he walked underneath, bathing him in darkness. 

It really was such a shame, he was on his way back from a wonderful dinner with Stiles, in a wonderful mood and then this absolute pillock had to ruin it.

Raising his arm Nick knocked briskly on the surface of the front door before shoving both of his hands into his jean pockets and plastering a wide grin onto his face. 

The door opened with a rough swing, the very rounded figure of a man in his late fifties stumbling his way into view, the stench of cheap alcohol seeping from his dirty bearded mouth like pus from an infected wound. Gritting his teeth at the clearly intoxicated figure Nick decided to cut straight to the chase “I’m not native to America, but … I do believe that even in your backward society, drinking whilst under the influence of alcohol is considered to be very, very illegal. Is it not?”.

The bulbous beast simply blinked at Nick for a moment before grunting “who the fuck do you think you are? The fucking cops? Ain’t nobody gives a shit if I drive after a few beers. Now get off my fucking property before I get my shotgun and shove it up your ass”.

Raising his brows at the words tumbling out of the stranger's mouth Nick sighed loudly in disappointment. “Well… when you put it like that. I guess there’s only one thing for me to do..”. Taking one hand out of his pocket, Nick flicked his fingers, the man soaring back and slamming into the hallway wall as Nick strolled casually into the house, kicking the door shut behind him. 

Observing the heavily wheezing man with a tilted head Nick swiped his hand to the left, an unseen force propelling the man across the wooden flooring into the kitchen. 

“You wouldn’t have a knife I could borrow, would you? I left mine at home, you see, I was on this rather wonderful date and you know what they say. Never bring your best knife on a first date!”. 

Eyes roaming around the room Nick let out a mocking cheer as he spotted the block of cooking knives. Keeping the gasping and struggling homeowner pinned to the floor with one hand, Nick reached out with the other, picking out the biggest and sharpest looking knife with a pleased noise and admiring the glint it made in the fluorescent lighting. 

“Guess this will have to do”

Crouching down Nick grabbed the older man’s jaw in a crushing grip while smiling pleasantly “now, time to open wide sweetheart. I need to cut out that lovely tongue of yours so I can shove it down your throat”.

\---time skip---  
Slipping back into the driver’s seat Nick whistled a jaunty little tune to himself as he started the ignition and picked his phone back up off the dashboard. Making his way back down the street Nick rang Tobias back, knowing that the other man would pick up and deciding to forego any formalities in favour of getting straight to the point. 

“You rang me for a reason, Tobias?”

Silence rang out on the other end before the man spoke in a defeated tone.

“I found the book. I’ll deliver it to you by the end of the week”

Eyes glinting in excitement Nick squeezed the wheel of the car in anticipation.

“Marvelous”


	13. chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long overdue confrontation between father and son occurs, and John is left reeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was super psyched to write this chapter! It was refreshing to write from a new perspective :P and hopefully, my readers can understand that although the sheriff's actions the past month have been misguided, he did it with the best intentions. They always say the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Stiles POV

 

The silence stretched out between the two Stilinski men like a rubber band pulled too far, destined to snap viciously. 

 

“Who.was.that?”

 

And there was the snap.

 

Stiles resisted the urge to swallow nervously under his dad’s hardened gaze, his mind subconsciously flickering back to the nightmare and the way the doppelganger just stood there as he was clawed to shreds. 

 

“A friend”

 

Lie.

 

His dad crossed his arms and squinted his gaze, lips forming his signature 'I’m disappointed in you son' frown. God, Stiles hated that frown. 

 

“He looked more than a friend if that kiss was anything to go by”

 

Okay, ew.

 

Scrunching up his face up at the knowledge that his own father had clearly spied on him and Nick on the porch, Stiles walked forward intending to shoulder his way past the older man and get a glass of water. 

 

“We’re not putting labels on things yet”

 

Another lie.

 

A disbelieving chuff was the response to his words, and honestly? Stiles couldn’t blame his dad, it really was a lame lie, Stiles was ashamed of himself for how bad it was. 

 

“Really?? Then how about you put a label on his age Stiles? Cause from what I saw he looks to be a hell of a lot older than you”

 

“He’s 24! That’s not even old” Stiles rolled his eyes and pushed past, heading for the cupboards over the sink with the glasses in. Apparently, his indifference over the age gap between him and Nick didn’t please his dad, like at all. 

 

“That’s 7 years different Stiles! You’re only 17. Don’t you think it’s a bit strange for an adult man to be dating a kid?!”

 

Gripping the glass in his hand tightly, Stiles spun around and glared at his dad who glared back, equally as stubborn and ready for a fight. “News flash dad, I haven’t been a kid in a long time. Probably not since mom died actually”. 

 

Flinching back as if Stiles had struck him, the sheriff lowered his gaze shamefully, remembering all the drunken nights sobbing on the kitchen table whilst Stiles sat upstairs, ten years old and feeling so alone. Uncrossing his arms the older man rubbed his hand across his head in frustration “I meant that you’re underage Stiles. You have to ask yourself why a grown man is dating a teenager instead of people his own age”. 

 

Chewing his bottom lip Stiles refused to admit that his dad had a fair point, a few times he did wonder why Nick was wasting his time with a teenager when there are so many other people in the world, both more attractive and closer to his age. But Nick chose Stiles, and that’s all that matters. 

 

“Why do you care?”

 

His dad blinked in shock at the angry reply, clearly not expecting Stiles to react to his words of concern with such venom. 

 

“What the hell do you mean why do I care? You’re my son Stiles! And I’m worried about you!!” his dad gestured to him in emphasis, his voice raising a good few octaves closer to shouting level. 

 

Shaking his head Stiles laughed, his chest constricting with the familiar feeling of fury, fire spreading through his veins, urging him to react, to hurt his dad. So Stiles did what he did best, he let his words do the hurting. 

 

Calmly placing the cup on the bench Stiles braced himself to let all of his pent-up frustration and anger out, rolling up the shirt sleeve he gestured to the bandage on his arm before unwinding the fabric and dressing, revealing the still angry looking wounds. “Oh, so NOW you’re worried about me? Well, that’s just great daddy-o, it really is. Except, when I really needed you, when I was having panic attacks at school, or when I was waking up screaming my throat raw from nightmares that literally made me claw myself awake! You weren’t there. You were too busy with work. And now” taking a deep breath Stiles scrunched his nose to stop tears from falling. “Now that I have Nick, who by the way, is the only good thing to happen in the shit-fest that has been my life for the past two years, now you want to ruin it by acting like a doting dad? Well, fuck that!”.

 

“Fuck you, fuck Scott, and fuck everybody else who only acknowledges me when it’s convenient for them”

 

With that said Stiles stormed his way past his dad who had frozen in horror at the sight of the deep scratches on his arm, his face turning grey as Stiles revealed all the stuff he’d been dealing with whilst the sheriff was working overtime on cold cases. 

 

His dad felt guilty.

 

Good.

 

Slamming his bedroom door shut Stiles turned the lock and threw himself onto the bed, roughly kicking off his shoes before curling into a ball and finally letting the tears past the barricade of his eyelids. His arm stung but the pain seemed inconsequential compared to the ache of sadness resonating throughout his chest. 

 

How could such a good night turn so sour?

 

Burying his face into the blue fabric of his pillows Stiles stubbornly blocked out the desperate knocking and loud pleas echoing through the door from the other side. 

 

“Stiles! Stiles!...please… I’m sorry. I..I know I haven’t been here for you”

 

“Stiles...please..just, just open the door. At least let me check those scratches? Stiles..?”

 

Biting his lip Stiles ripped open the drawer of his bedside table and dug around in the mess of broken pens and other assorted items before finding what he was looking for. Pulling out his earphones, Stiles jammed the buds roughly into his ears before plugging them into his phone and setting his playlist on shuffle, stubbornly turning the volume to a deafeningly loud level to drown out his dad’s voice.

 

Where can I go?

When the shadows are calling

Shadows are calling me

What can I do?

When it's pulling me under

Pulling me underneath

It's getting close

I lose control

It's taking over

 

Closing his eyes Stiles let the lyrics pull him under as he cried himself into an exhausted sleep.

 

~#~#~#~#~ Sheriff’s POV

 

“Shit Mel, I’ve fucked up. I’ve fucked up so bad and I don’t even know how to begin to fix it”

 

He hugged the coffee cup closer to himself, ashamed at how much he wants to reach for the whiskey tucked under the sink and drown his sorrows in that instead. Melissa sighed on the other end of the phone, probably cursing John for his own stupidity over his son's welfare. 

 

“I’m sure it’s not that bad John”

 

Snorting he shook his head and stared into the black liquid contents of his cup “it’s bad Mel. I got home early tonight because the cruiser’s engine was shot and it needed to go into the shop and when I got home he wasn’t here”.

 

“John he’s a teenager he’s going to go out!”

 

Squeezing his eyes shut John snapped impatiently “It’s not that! I wouldn’t care if he was out with Scott but he came back with some stranger! A 24 year old stranger at that! Jesus Christ Mel, the creep kissed his hand and everything”. 

 

“Oh, John…”

 

“And then when I confronted him about it, he got angry at me. Started saying he wasn’t a kid anymore and that I don’t care about him. He said he’s been having nightmares Melissa, really bad ones. He showed me his arm and it..” trailing off he swallowed the vomit trying to make it's way up his esophagus at the memory of inflamed and torn skin.

 

“He said he clawed himself in his sleep Mel, but.. they were so deep”

 

Tears gathering at the corners of his eyes John rubbed the back of his neck nervously as Melissa responded with worry. 

 

“You think he might have done it whilst awake?” 

 

“I don't know Mel. I don't know anymore, he's, he's like a different person. I ..I don't know how I've missed it! He's got bags under his eyes, he's paler than usual and he actually looks like he's lost weight”. 

 

The coffee was rapidly growing cold, but John didn't care. He'd only made it to stop himself from reaching for the whiskey glasses, to give his hands something to hold when he couldn't hold his son like he wanted so badly to do. 

 

“John...why have you been working overtime at the station? You never said. Has there been more murders??” 

 

Cradling the phone to his ear John picked up the cup of coffee and rose to his feet, heading towards the sink to dump the contents down the drain with a sigh. 

 

“I thought I was doing the right thing Mel. Looking at all those cold cases, familiarising myself with the supernatural. I thought… that maybe, just maybe if Stiles and Scott had someone they could turn to, an adult who knew about the supernatural from the start. Someone who could help them, ...then maybe..maybe they wouldn't have had to go through all the shit they did. Everything Stiles told me about Peter, the Kanima, Gerard, an alpha pack! And then this Darach thing?! If I had known, if I had just... known”

 

Melissa filled in the silence he had left with words that spoke of her own guilt “you feel like you could have done something. Could have stopped them from getting hurt, from being scared and feeling like nobody would listen if they told the truth”. 

 

“Yeah”

 

Leaving the cup in the sink unrinsed, John headed upstairs, pausing in front of the door to Stiles’ room. Pressing his forehead against the wood he strained his ears, trying to listen in order to see if there was any movement behind the door. Hearing nothing but silence John sighed softly in disappointment. 

 

“You want my advice, John?” 

 

Making a noise that indicated he did, in fact, want her advice, John entered his room, shutting the door behind him with a kick. 

 

“Spend some time with your son, show him you care. Explain that you made a mistake and that you're going to do everything you can to fix it, stop wallowing in guilt and self-pity and realize that your son needs you, before it's too late”

 

Nodding John toed off his shoes before sitting heavily on the bed, the mattress springs creaking with his weight as he slumped tiredly.

 

“Alright, thanks Mel. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, goodnight”

 

“Goodnight John”

 

Hanging up the phone he placed it on the bedside table, closing his eyes and pressing the heels of his palms into the sockets in an attempt to drive away his headache.

 

“You always made it look so easy Claud’s, raising a kid. God, I’ve messed up so much! and now I’ve hurt him” voice thick with tears and nose sniffling John laughed softly, sadly. “Fancy giving me some good old advice from up there?” John asked meekly, pulling his hands away from his eyes and staring at the photograph on the table surface. The beaming face of a brown-haired woman staring out at him with familiar amber eyes and cute moles spattered across her pale skin, expression brimming with mischief. Minutes passed and yet nothing happened, the picture remained frozen and John was still left alone without any answers. He had known deep down that nothing would happen, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that there was a tiny sliver of desperation in him that made him wait for a reply. 

 

“...yeah, I thought not”


	14. chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catching a break doesn't seem to be something that happens to Stiles lately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woaaah another chapter?? :O enjoy, because my brain barfed up like four chapters within two days so I'm a good few chapters ahead which is where I like to be. 
> 
> p.s I honestly don't like hurting Stiles but gotdmnan it I love angst

Stiles’s POV

 

He was running

Running from something

Something bad

Chest burning with every rasping breath Stiles skidded on the uneven forest ground, his bare feet earning fresh scrapes from the sharp rocks and small branches that littered the earth as he sprinted faster. The sweat-slicked skin along his arms and the back of his neck prickled with a warning, the small hairs on the surface standing up straight as goosebumps spread across his flesh. 

He needed to find somewhere to hide

Somewhere safe

Taking another blind turn in the pitch black of the woods, Stiles held back the urge to scream in frustration as nothing but more trees and mist spread out endlessly in front of him with no sign of salvation. 

Flinching Stiles looked around frantically as the sound of something fast and heavy crashing its way through the foliage towards him reached his ears, branching snapping and bushes rustling angrily. His eyes squinted against the oppressive darkness, desperately searching for a miracle, searching for somewhere to hide. 

THERE!

Heart thumping madly, Stiles dived for the hollow he spotted in the trunk of one of the many towering trees, forcibly squashing his long limbs and bony joints inside the painfully tight space. Back pressed against the rough bark with his eyes glued to the opening, the terrified teen tucked his knees close to his chest, trying desperately to make himself as small as possible. Body shuddering with fear, Stiles attempted to focus more on his surroundings and less on the sound of blood rushing in his ears, straining to pick up any noises that might indicate his pursuer had caught up to him.

There was nothing but silence.

A minute passed, then two, and then three, until finally after ten minutes Stiles considered the possibility that he had successfully hidden from the threat. 

He was wrong.

A vice like grip encircled his ankle and pulled, attempting to drag his body forward as he screamed and twisted against the strong grasp. Kicking out viciously with his other foot, nails scrambling against the damp and rotting wood Stiles desperately tried to prevent the monster from pulling him completely out of his hiding spot. 

It didn’t work.

Foot connecting with thin air and nails slipping uselessly on the bark Stiles yelled louder and threw his head back caught up in the midst of his frantic struggle, the back of his skull slamming against the bark and causing a sickening throb of pain to bloom. Disorientated from the pain and the high pitched ringing in his ears Stiles fell limp against the grip as it finally managed to yank him out into the open. Eyes squeezed shut Stiles sobbed pathetically as the creature grabbed his arms, pinning them to his sides and wrapping him in a crushing grip. Warm and foul smelling breath huffing against the shell of his ear as its mouth opened.

“STIL--E--S!!”

“STIL---LES!

“STILES! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!!”

 

Eyes snapping open Stiles gasped, bile rising in his throat as the room spun around him causing his stomach to churn dangerously. Hitting the person holding him frantically with his palms Stiles managed to wiggle enough room to pull himself free before darting for the bathroom. Falling harshly to his knees he reached the toilet just in time for the contents of his stomach to spill out dramatically as he retched uncontrollably. 

The familiar feeling of a warm hand rubbing itself back and forth across his shaking shoulders gave little comfort as the muscles in his abdomen clenched and unclenched spasmodically. Fresh sweat coating his forehead as he groaned pathetically in pain, his stomach now empty but still rolling like a sea in a storm. 

“Jesus Stiles…”

Pressing the heated skin of his forehead against the cool rim of the toilet bowl, Stiles weakly mumbled to hovering and anxious figure of his dad behind him. “M, fine dad”. 

“The fuck you are!” his dad snapped back angrily causing Stiles to wince at the loud volume, a throbbing pain radiating from somewhere on the back of his head. Hands reached out and Stiles swatted at them petulantly “nuu dnt tush”. 

“Stiles you have a concussion, your head is bleeding and you need to go to the hospital now” his dad tried to explain to him calmly as Stiles whined low in his throat and hugged the toilet tighter in protest “noo, m’ mad atch yu”. Surprisingly his dad let out a laugh at his stubborn statement before hoisting him up by his armpits and leading him stumbling, almost drunkenly, out of the room “well kid, you can still be mad at me at the hospital”. 

 

\---time skip---

 

“You should have seen me about these scratches Stiles”

Shrugging Stiles averted his eyes away from the warm concerned gaze of Melissa as she gently finished wrapping his arm in a fresh bandage. The wounds had reopened again sometime during his nightmare/sleepwalking episode and Melissa was not impressed that Stiles hadn’t sought out medical assistance in the first place. 

“I didn’t think they were that big of a deal” he muttered quietly in defense, earning himself a raised brow and an unimpressed scowl from the nurse. 

“Well you thought wrong” 

Tucking his now dressed arm to his chest Stiles bit his tongue to stop himself from snapping that he had dealt with worse. He doubted very much that Ms. McCall would appreciate his anger when she was only trying to help. But it was hard these days, not to feel jaded or frustrated at everyone who acted like they cared about him, or at least everyone who wasn’t Nick. 

Nick was genuine. Nick didn’t leave him to suffer alone for a full month after possibly one of the most traumatizing experiences of his life, Nick didn’t ignore his existence and then acknowledge him when it pleased him, no, Nick truly cared for him and Stiles could feel it, in his heart. 

Licking his lips nervously Stiles sighed as he eyed the clock on the wall, regretting the fact that he was too concussed earlier to convince his dad from dragging him here. He hated hospitals. Too many sour memories of sitting at his own mother's bedside doing his homework whilst she asked him so innocently who he was, and where his parents were, it used to hurt, that she forgot him first. But he understood now, if he had the choice he’d choose to forget too, he always too loud, too fidgety, never paid enough attention either. 

A hyperactive little bastard who ruined lives.

He accepted that now.

The door clicked open as his dad entered the small examination room with a weak smile directed towards Stiles and Melissa, his voice soft as he broke the slowly building tension in the room “hey all done now?”.

Stiles nodded and slipped off the table as Melissa snapped off her rubber gloves before tossing them in the bin. “He’s right as rain, a concussion and a slight cut on the back of his head from the closet but nothing some good bed rest, a bit of Tylenol and lots of fluids won’t fix”. 

Huffing out a breath of relief his dad shoved his hands into his pockets whilst giving Melissa a look of worn gratefulness “thanks Mel”. Making his way towards the door Stiles paused as Melissa’s small hand gently grabbed his upper arm and squeezed “you did a good job cleaning those scratches on your arm Stiles, but please, for my peace of mind, just come to me in the future”. Staring at the tiled floor Stiles nodded in agreement before moving once again for the door, desperate to escape. 

Following his dad out into the parking lot, Stiles barely registered the fact that he was still shoeless, his socked feet softly padding across the gravel in a rush to get to the car and to get back home. Spotting his jeep sitting underneath the glow of a street lamp Stiles furrowed his brow and spoke up “you drove Roscoe?”. His dad who was only a few steps behind him grunted whilst pulling the keys out of his pocket “cruiser is in the shop, it’s why you didn’t see it when…” clearing his throat he continued “when Nick dropped you off”. 

Biting back a snort at the sound of disdain in his dad’s voice when speaking Nick’s name, Stiles simply nodded and slid into the passenger side of the jeep. Buckling the belt Stiles let his eyes slip closed whilst his dad started the car. 

“Stiles….?”

Not bothering to reopen his eyes Stiles sighed at the questioning tone “I’m tired dad, please, just leave it okay”. 

“Okay son”


	15. chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac is surprisingly perceptive when he's not too busy being a dick in a scarf meanwhile Lydia and Peter know exactly what river Derek is sailing, it's the ancient Egyptian river of DE-NIAL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> deeeerreeeeeekkk!!! babe, babe, stop lying to yourself :P

Derek’s POV

 

Lips pressed together Derek listened as Scott recounted the information he had recently gained “the sheriff took Stiles to the hospital last night with a concussion, apparently Stiles sleepwalked into his own closet and when the sheriff tried to get him out he just freaked, ended up hurting himself”. 

Allison scowled from her place on the couch beside Lydia “so what? You think Stiles was lying when he said he wasn’t affected by the sacrifice?”. Scott shrugged “I don’t know but didn’t you notice how he avoided us in school? He literally went out of his way not to be left alone with any of us yesterday”. Lydia nodded in agreement as Isaac looked up from his phone with a raised brow “you’ve pretty much ignored him for the past month, Scott, I wouldn’t want to be around someone if they did that to me either”. 

Scrunching his face in his signature puppy look of confusion Scott crossed his arms “I’ve been busy pack training! You should know, you’ve been doing it too. Derek’s been grinding our asses like no tomorrow!”. Snorting Isaac shook his head “you could have easily rearranged our training to spend time with him Scott, you just didn’t want to”. 

Holding up his hand Derek stopped Scott before the teen could muster an angry retort, raising a dark brow in Isaac’s direction “since when did you notice what was going on with Stiles? Last time I checked you guys could barely stand each other”. 

Shrugging Isaac put his phone away and addressed Derek with his patented ‘duh’ look, “it doesn’t take a genius to see that Stiles has been depressed since the Darach/Alpha pack crap. I mean, his friend Heather was murdered, Erica died, Scott nearly committed suicide on that weird lacrosse trip, Boyd died, his dad was kidnapped and nearly killed, and then you three had to die in a crazy sacrifice to save your parents.. not exactly what I would describe as a fun semester”. Counting off his fingers with each disaster listed Isaac finished with a flourish “and then, on top of that, his so-called best friend ignores him for weeks on end to spend time with a grumpy alpha and his beta in order to werewolf bond or some shit. Leaving him alone to deal with the aftermath of said sacrifice. I mean I’d be pretty fucked up too, and that’s coming from the guy who was locked up in a freezer for most of his nights the past few years”.

Hearing it listed out like that, so matter of factly made Derek’s stomach drop, and it seemed he wasn’t the only one either, as Scott, Allison, and Lydia shared guilty looks. “I mean.. I have kind of been busy dealing with Aiden the past few weeks too..” Lydia admitted quietly as Allison frowned at her own twisting fingers “me and Stiles were never close so... I guess, once Scott and I called it off, I just kind of ...stopped hanging out with him”. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose Derek hissed through his teeth at the guilt ridden trio “you’re telling me...that NONE of you bothered to pay even the smallest amounts of attention towards Stiles these past few weeks?”. 

“I did” Isaac threw up his hand with an inappropriately bright smile earning himself a scowl from Derek and a flash of his alpha eyes “Isaac, behave”. 

“I see your pack meeting is going wonderfully as always, little nephew” a snide voice called out from the large metal sliding door, Peter strolling inside the apartment with a shark-like grin. 

Derek could already feel the familiar sensation of a headache building behind his eyes, his uncle showing up was the last thing he needed right now. “How long have you been there?” Derek grumbled, slightly embarrassed and just a little bit angry that he hadn’t noticed the omega before now. 

Clicking his tongue Peter tilted his head as he took a seat on the empty armchair, crossing one leg over the other at the ankle and folding his hands across his stomach, the picture of nonchalance. “Oh not long really, just long enough to know you and your ragtag group of scooby-doo wannabes are discussing my favorite junior detective”

Scott looked about ready to vomit at the sound of Peter calling Stiles his favorite and Derek was 99% sure he was only a second behind him, even Isaac looked weirded out. Lydia and Allison simply trained twin glares on the older man which spoke heavily of wanting to stab him with something sharp, Derek secretly hoped it would be in the eyeballs.

“How is Stiles by the way? Oh wait, none of you would know, would you? That’s why you’re all here gossiping like teenage girls at a slumber party” Peter chuckled to himself, satisfied that he had ruffled all of their feathers with so little effort.

Rolling his eyes Derek resisted the urge to growl, knowing it would only encourage his dear uncle further “why are you here Peter?”. Blinking innocently at him Peter smiled slow and wide, like the cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. “Hmm, charmed to see you too, nephew, it’s been what? Three weeks? I’ve missed you so much, nothing like the warmth of family to make you really feel at home”. 

Huffing Derek decided he had had enough.

Flicking out his claws Derek approached the back of the armchair with a low rumbling growl, reaching down he pressed the tip of his claws to his uncle’s throat, digging slightly into the freshly shaven skin of his jugular. 

“What.do.you.want?” 

Taking a hold of Derek’s wrist with an expression of pure exasperation Peter raised a brow “ah, ah ah! Getting snappy isn’t going to make me want to talk der-bear”. Gritting his teeth at hearing his childhood nickname used by the very man who murdered Laura, Derek smothered the rapidly growing part of him that wanted to kill his uncle all over again, and simply retracted his hand from Peter’s throat. 

“Fine”

Smirking victoriously Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone “I was going to say, that dear Stiles didn’t look too lonely last night with his date”.

“Date?!!” all four of the teenagers chorused in confusion, much to Peter’s annoyance.

Derek just felt numb.

“Yes, date, as in spending time with another person with the intention of seeing whether or not they would be a suitable romantic or sexual partner. Your precious human was at my favorite Italian restaurant last night with a rather charming looking older man, laughing, eating and even holding hands. Ergo, Stiles was on a date”. 

Scott curled his lip in a weak imitation of a sneer “and why would we believe anything you say? You’re a psychopath!”. Lydia, Allison, and Isaac nodded in agreement whilst Derek still struggled silently to process the fact that Stiles had been on a date. 

Stiles, on a date. 

With some mystery guy. 

A guy that wasn’t Derek.

He was happy about it, really. It was what he wanted, after all, Stiles to move on from his little crush and find someone who deserved his love. 

Wait. Did Peter say the guy Stiles was with was older?

“Long blond hair, blue eyes, and a smirk to make even James Dean jealous, I can see why Stiles is so smitten really. I felt my own cold undead heart skip a little beat” Peter drawled as he looked at the screen of his phone with a tilted head.

Sure enough, the phone screen displayed a warm lit photograph of Stiles mid-laugh, wine glass pressed self-consciously to his lips in order to hide a blinding smile and honey brown eyes alight. Derek’s eyes flickered to the figure which sat opposite Stiles, a well dressed attractive man with blond hair down to his pale collar bones, who gazed at Stiles with such an intensity it made Derek’s stomach clench. Belatedly Derek realized that their hands were intertwined in the middle of the table, the sight of Stiles’ long pale digits threaded with a complete stranger’s only serving to fill Derek with an emotion he couldn’t quite describe.

Jealousy?

Anger?

Hurt?

It was like a mixture of all those three and more, collecting into a pulsating, festering pool of filth in his gut and making his fists clench in an attempt to fight the vicious impulse to snatch Peter’s phone and crush it into tiny pieces.

Finally, the sound of Lydia speaking up broke Derek out of his violent thoughts, annoyance and obvious venom leaking from every word “oh so what? A depressed person can’t go on dates now? Just because Stiles went on some date with a guy doesn’t mean he isn’t suffering, he’s still having nightmares so bad he’s injuring himself! We need to get him to agree to see Deaton”.

The loft fell silent in agreement, Derek, Lydia, Scott, and Allison all trying to think of the best way to get Stiles to visit the emissary. Again, Lydia was the one who piped up, her features set in her signature ‘don’t bother arguing with me’ expression. 

“I think it should be Derek”.

Scott’s eyebrows jumped into his hairline an offended squawk spilling out of his lips at the mere suggestion “what why?”.

Peter simply smirked wider, and Derek was very much regretting not ripping out his throat for the second time.

Rolling her eyes at Scott, Lydia flicked her hair “because Scott! You heard Isaac, me you and Allison have pretty much screwed Stiles over for the past month so I doubt he’d be too happy to be cornered by one of us and told to go to Deaton’s. Derek is our best bet, he’s unexpected enough to be able to catch Stiles by surprise so he can’t avoid him and contrary to popular belief, Stiles actually listens to Derek”.

“He does?” Derek echoed confused as Scott simply crossed his arms with an angry pout at Lydia’s words. 

Lydia smiled at Derek, a saccharine smile that spoke of thousands of secrets and the knowledge that she’d never tell a single one. “Yes Derek, he does. I mean he doesn’t always do what you tell him, but he listens to what you have to say in the first place which is a step further than any of us would get with him at the moment”. 

Derek had the distinct feeling that the banshee was setting him up for something but right now he couldn’t find it in himself to care, if him talking to Stiles meant that there was even a small possibility of the teen getting help, then he would do it.

“Alright, I’ll talk to him”

 

\---time skip---

 

The makeshift pack had long since left the loft leaving only Derek and Peter in each others company, and much to Derek’s annoyance, Peter didn’t look like he was going to be moving anytime soon. No matter how much Derek tried to ignore him.

“So, how have you been Derek? Busy training the puppies not to pee on the expensive hardwood and not to bite strangers? Sounds very Alpha of you, dear nephew”

Slamming his book shut Derek leveled Peter with a burning glare “why are you still here Peter?”. Lifting himself up off of the armchair Peter sighed dramatically “No need to have such a sour attitude Derek. I was only checking that you were okay after finding out dear sweet Stiles has a delicious new beau”. 

Jaw clenching and nostrils flaring Derek swallowed a roar “why wouldn’t I be okay? What Stiles does in his free time has nothing to do with me”. Smirk spreading across his face like wildfire Peter hummed “I think you mean WHO Stiles does in his free time”.

Lunging forward Derek gripped the front of Peter’s shirt his face shifting as anger pulsed through him “don’t you DARE talk about Stiles like that”. Glancing down deliberately slowly at the fists curled into the material of his shirt and then up at the Alpha’s gaze Peter lifted a sardonic brow.

 

Fuck.


	16. chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick finds the solution to the problem of Stiles being able to leave him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter but I didn't want to make it unnecessarily long and I'm posting chp17 today too so that makes up for it :P

Nick’s POV

 

As promised Nick received the book, hand-delivered by Tobias himself on Thursday night, and the book itself was perfect, even better than he could have ever imagined. Pages upon pages of forbidden magic and dark rituals all bound so conveniently in a human skin cover. Nicholas really had to hand it to his Warlock ancestors, they certainly knew how to have fun. It was a shame most were cowards these days. 

“You did a good job getting me this Tobias. I understand it was rather difficult to track down?” Nick hummed as he traced the ancient ruins inscribed in gold on the front of the book with a suppressed sense of glee. 

Tobias stepped forward from the shadows of the darkened apartment his arms crossed and eyebrow raised “an awful lot of trouble to hide one little book if you ask me, but then again, if you want it then it can’t be anything good”. 

Placing a hand on his chest with a dramatic expression of hurt, Nick approached Tobias with steady strides “do you really think so little of me Tobias?”. His actions only earned him an eye roll and a sneer “haven’t proven me wrong though have you?”. 

Reaching up Nick placed a hand on his companion's shoulder and squeezed, watching with a sick sense of satisfaction as Tobias winced underneath the touch. “The problem with you, Tobias, is you’re all talk. But when it comes down to it...you’re still that same, scared little boy I met in the woods all those years ago”.

Eyes squinting in anger Tobias shoved Nick’s hand away with a sneer “one of these days someone is going to come along and rip that smug head right from your shoulders and when they do, I’ll be watching with a smile”. 

Clicking his tongue Nick wagged his finger in the man’s face as if telling off a young child “ah. ah. ah. Now is that any way to speak to the very man who saved your life?”. His words earned a harsh scoff from Tobias “you honestly expect me to believe you did that out of the goodness of your heart? Newsflash! You don’t have one. Every single thing you do is to benefit yourself, to make yourself stronger or just to intimidate people into getting what you want. You’re a child playing adult, Nicholas, and when somebody refuses to play the game how you want them to, you kill them”. 

Smirking Nick tilted his head, feigning innocence and curiosity “really? Then why haven’t I killed you? You never play my game right”. Shrugging one shoulder Tobias answered honestly “that’s simple, it’s because you know that if you killed me, you’d just be doing what I want you to do. You’re never going to kill me, and you’re never going to let me die”.  
Throwing back his head Nick laughed, his hand slapping against his stomach as he let out a rather unattractive snort “god, you’re so RIGHT! I was wondering how long it would take you to realize it. Was it the overdose in Florence that clued you in?? No! No, wait! I know, it was the gunshot wound in Jersey”. 

Staring at Tobias with glinting eyes Nick continued, remembering the event with a particular fondness in his tone “straight through the stomach, nasty spot really. Pretty sure it hit a few vital organs on its way out the other end too! and bless you, you looked so relieved. Lying there on that dirty warehouse floor, so sure that you’d finally done it. Finally managed to escape me. And let me tell you, that moment when you closed your eyes and took those shallow gasping breaths, I honestly toyed with the idea of not healing you, of simply letting you free of your little oath of servitude to me. But then I thought, Nah! That’s no fun!”.

Yelling out in anger Tobias threw his fist forward, intending on punching Nick squarely in the face. He didn’t get very far, however, as Nick, having anticipated a reaction from Tobias grabbed the clenched fist midair before bending it back viciously. 

A sickening crack filled the air followed by a howl of pain.

Dropping his grip on the fist, Nick watched with a calm sense of detachment as Tobias crumpled to the floor, wrist clutched to his chest, groans blocked by gritted teeth. “Don’t try that again Tobias, we’ve already established that I am much, much stronger than you”. 

Turning on his heel Nick headed back towards the book, picking it up and beginning to flip through the pages in determination, looking for the perfect spell to use on Stiles. 

Tobias spoke up from his spot on the floor, throat thick the pain radiating from his freshly broken wrist. “So what’s your master plan then? Brainwash the kid with magic so he doesn’t see how much of a sick bastard you are??”.

Snorting at the ridiculousness of the statement Nick didn’t bother sparing Tobias a glance before answering “don’t be stupid, I simply need to find a better way to tie Stiles to me, a simple blood oath won’t do it. You’ve already proven that”. 

“And what about family? Friends? I’m assuming this kid isn’t like me, an orphan in the woods that nobody will care about if they go missing”. 

Pursing his lips Nick shook his head and moved onto another page, deeming the spell unfit for the intended purpose. “When I’m finished, Stiles will have pushed everyone so far away that nobody will think anything of him disappearing, putting him down as another teenage runaway I’m sure”. 

“And if they do? If they start looking into things?”

Sighing tiredly at the incessant questions being thrown his way Nick snapped angrily “then I’ll just have to kill them won’t I!”.  
Tobias remained quiet after that.

Satisfied that he could concentrate once again on the task at hand, Nick resumed his search for a few tense moments before stopping, the thick yellowing page underneath his fingers providing the perfect solution.

A soul bond.


	17. chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek surprises Stiles with how sweet he can be and unintentionally heals some of Stiles' wounds with his words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised chp17!! HAVE YOURSELF SOME FLUFFY DEREK ^-^

Stiles POV

So.. it turns out that all Stiles needed to do to get attention from his father for more than a minute a day, was to sleepwalk into his closet and give himself a concussion. Thing is, Stiles didn't want the attention anymore.

And now he was stuck, his dad already shifting into maximum dad-mode by taking two days off work, as well as reverting back to his original 9-5 schedule with the occasional night shift once a month.

He actually had to ARGUE for his dad to let him go to school? who does that? What teenager in their right mind would pass up an opportunity for a few days off of high school? A teenager called Stiles apparently.

All to avoid more awkward silences and forced conversations with his own dad.

Then, on top of that, the pack was acting like a bunch of weirdos too.

Stiles swore to god he had traveled to an alternate universe when he hit his head, a universe where his family and friends suddenly remembered he existed and wanted to spend time with him.

Scott, Lydia, Allison and even Isaac all made it their personal mission to sit with him at lunch now instead of separating off to do their own thing, and whilst a small part of Stiles was happy that his friends were showing they cared, a bigger part was pissed off.

Like really big.

Which lead him to where he was now, hiding out in a little coffee shop ignoring texts from the 'pack' and his dad as he slowly sipped a large mug of hot chocolate and munched on a Belgian chocolate brownie, having decided to skip lunch and afternoon classes for the day in a wild bid for some peace and quiet.

Thank God it was Friday.

Nick was picking him up later tonight and he was going to spend the weekend at Nick's apartment, much to his dad's dismay, but the older man seemed to know when to pick his battles, and fortunately for Stiles, he didn't pick that one.

Smacking his lips Stiles shoved another piece of brownie into his mouth and shot off a text to Nick.

Eating a brownie that I'm 100% sure was baked in heaven, my mouth feels like it's experiencing Nirvana, I'm going to pick you one up for tonight! :P Prepare to have your tastebuds ROCKED!

As he waited for a reply he scrolled through Instagram and twitter, liking random photos of dogs and retweeting a few celebrities who he followed. For being such a chatty person Stiles never actually took that well to social media, he supposed it was because he didn't feel like his life was worth posting about, or at least the life that wasn't supernatural related.

"Hey Stiles"

Inhaling sharply Stiles started to cough violently, a brownie crumb having snuck its way down his throat in his surprise. Eyes watering and face turning an embarrassing shade of red he avoided the amused gaze of one Derek Hale and grabbed his hot chocolate, taking a deep drink in a bid to stop himself from dying via crumb.

It worked.

Clearing his throat Stiles rubbed his hoodie-clad arm over his eyes to wipe away the tears, his vision now clear and throat no longer spasming like mad, he squinted his eyes angrily at the smirking alpha.

"What the fuck dude! Do I need to get all you puppies a bell collar? Because I'm losing count how many times you idiots have snuck up on me and greatly decreased my life expectancy!" Stiles ranted waving his arms like a startled octopus.

Derek only rolled his eyes at Stiles' dramatics and slid into the chair opposite with a raised brow "shouldn't you be in school anyway?".

"What are you? My babysitter? Did Scott send you? Because if he did then I swear to god I'm going to shove mistletoe right up his ass" Stiles' fingers twitched, itching to type out an angry text for his so-called 'best friend' about leaving him well enough alone.

Derek shook his head with a small smile "actually this place is one of my favorites, it has these amazing apple fritters that Laura loved, so whenever she was having a bad time, my mom would drive us to this place and order her a whole box". A white pastry box appeared on the table, Derek's large tanned hand patting the top affectionately.

Touched by the honesty and the unusual display of emotion from the Alpha, Stiles relaxed, his guard lowering as he stared at Derek with softened eyes. "You having a bad time?" Stiles questioned softly, his hands gripping a napkin and starting to slowly rip it to pieces.

Smile turning distinctly wry, Derek leant back in his seat and sighed "been having a bad time for forever it seems".

Looking down at the shredded pieces of napkins in his hands Stiles hummed in agreement "I know what you mean. Kind of seems like my life has been stuck on a permanent low point since my mom died". Letting the small white pieces fall between his fingers like snow Stiles didn't expect Derek to reply, let alone to say what he did.

"She was a great woman"

Blinking Stiles gave Derek a confused look, how did Derek know his mom?

Seeing the look that Stiles was giving him Derek decided to elaborate, launching into an unexpectedly sweet tale. "Storytime at the little acorn library was just about the best thing about Thursday afternoons. Apple juice and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, there wasn't an empty beanbag or cushion in the whole place. She used to do the best voices, and always asked us what we thought would happen next or who we liked and didn't like".

Taking a deep breath Derek laughed "as I got older, like seven or eight, all my friends used to tease me about going to story time, because it was childish. So I made up this lame excuse that it was for Cora because she was two at the time, and I would say that my mom liked me to be there if she needed to run errands or whatever. It was a total lie though, and your mom saw right through me. Used to give me a wink and sneak me two cookies as I sat at the back and pretended to read comic books when really I was listening to her".

Stiles was stunned.

Sure, he had vague memories of going to storytime with his mother while she read to the other children, but he was either too young or as he grew up, too busy playing superheroes to really sit and listen to her or take notice of the other kids. Plus, Stiles got a story every night from his mom, sometimes two if he had been really good that day, so it wasn't that big of a deal to him, certainly not as big of a deal as it was to Derek or the other kids.

Stiles didn't realize he had started crying until Derek suddenly looked like he regretted even speaking.

"Sorry...I didn't.."

Cutting him off Stiles wiped his tears away with an embarrassed sniffle "no! It's okay really, It's more than okay actually" giving Derek a smile Stiles ran his fingers along the rim of his half-empty cup. "It's nice, to hear that my mom meant something to other people. To know that they have good memories of her. She deserves to be remembered like that, happy".

Derek hesitated before speaking "you don't remember her like that then?". Stiles shook his head, his heart clenching with guilt as his brain replayed the scenes of his nightmare whilst the skin on his arm itched, the slowly healing scratches finally starting to scab over.

"Hard to remember someone being happy after watching them slowly lose themselves to a disease for two years and knowing you can't do anything to help. Sometimes… I think it would have been nicer if she died in a car crash you know? Something quick, painless. God, how sick does that make me huh? Wishing my own mom had died sooner than she did because it hurt to watch her waste away".

Shaking his head Stiles breath hitched as he fought back the urge to sob or laugh, a hand encircled his, warmth seeping into his skin which for some reason always felt cold since the sacrifice. Meeting Derek's eyes Stiles chewed his bottom lip as the Alpha gave his hand a gentle, comforting squeeze. "I don't think that sounds sick at all Stiles, you were just a kid and she was in pain, you didn't deserve to see her suffer like that, nobody deserves to see someone they love slip away".

Holding back a fresh wave of tears Stiles felt something inside of him give, like a thick poisonous rope of self-hatred and guilt just snapped. A rope that had spent the last few days weaving and tightening its way around his chest and squeezing the very air from his lungs.

He finally felt like he could breathe again.


	18. chapter 18

Derek’s POV

 

At first Derek wasn’t so sure about approaching Stiles when he seemed to be having such a bad day, but standing there at the cafe counter, apple fritters clutched in one hand and phone in the other Derek made his decision.

It was the right decision. 

Sitting here, with Stiles’ chilled hand underneath his, it felt right. Like some puzzle piece had slotted into place, and Derek realized he couldn’t ignore his feelings anymore, couldn’t pretend to be happy whilst Stiles found love in someone else. 

Opening his mouth Derek began to try and formulate words that wouldn’t make him sound like a complete dick or moron. Like ‘hey, I like you’ Or ‘i’ve been kind of dumb these past few months and tried to ignore something that’s building between us cause I’m scared. But I don’t want to be scared anymore’. 

But Stiles’ phone pings and Derek spots the words Nick flashing on the screen and remembers like a hard slap to the face, that Stiles had already begun to move on, and no matter how much he wanted to, Derek didn’t have the right to take that away from him. 

Removing his hand from its position Derek sat back and watched as Stiles smiled at whatever the text said and typed out an enthusiastic reply. Probably with an excessive amount of emoji’s, Derek remembered that Stiles is fond of emojis.

Having lost any and all courage that he possessed mere moments ago that would have allowed him to admit his feelings for Stiles, Derek steered the conversation to safer waters and finally broached the subject he had been wanting to speak about since Wednesday. 

“I know you’re not on good terms with Scott at the moment, or Lydia and Allison for that matter but… Melissa told him about your accident Tuesday night. She was concerned and Scott thought that maybe it could be something to do with the sacrifice?”

Derek immediately regretted his decision to change subjects as Stiles’ features darkened into a furious scowl, previously soft caramel colored eyes becoming cloudy with anger. He would never admit it but the wolf inside Derek cowered a bit at that look and it took a lot of willpower for him not to follow suit. 

“Is there literally no such thing as privacy in this damn town?? Or is another Stilinski losing their fucking mind too good of a subject to pass up gossiping about??” 

Clenching his fists to stop himself from reaching out again and taking Stiles’ hand in his, Derek shook his head “no Stiles that’s not true, and you know it. Melissa is worried about you and so are the rest of us, you’re clearly not telling everyone the whole truth about these nightmares and you’re hurting yourself because of it”.  
Absently Derek noticed that whilst he was speaking Stiles had started to rub his right forearm, long skinny fingers twisting in the hoodie fabric like an anxious tick.

Eyes flickering away from the seemingly subconscious movement, Derek tried to make Stiles understand, to soothe his anger. “I know you’re not ready to forgive Scott and the rest for how they’ve treated you lately, and I’m not asking you to. Hell, I don’t even know why you’re not mad at me too, I didn’t exactly push Scott to spend more time with you even when I noticed he was being a bad friend. But I would really appreciate it, we all would if you could see Deaton? Just.. just to rule out that it’s something to do with the sacrifice?”.

Stiles pursed his lips and appeared to at least be considering Derek’s advice which gave him hope, hope that the teen hadn’t drifted too far away from the pack. “We- I, wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if something happened to you that I could have helped prevent”. 

Breathing slowly out through his nose Stiles closed his eyes for a brief moment before giving Derek a reluctant nod “fine, but I’m busy this weekend so I’ll see Deaton next week”.

Relief flooding through him Derek gave Stiles a fond smile “thank you, I know you don’t owe me, or the pack anything but it means a lot that you’re willing to do this”. 

“Yeah, just do me a favor and get Scott and the rest to back off okay? I can’t deal with their guilt right now”

“Okay, I’ll talk to them” Derek promised before beginning to get up, making sure to grab his box of fritters. Hesitating for a second Derek locked eyes with Stiles, staring into them earnestly as he poured as much sincerity into his voice as he could muster “I enjoy talking to you Stiles, we should do it more often”. Turning and beginning to slowly walk away Derek bit his lip to suppress a grin when Stiles piped up.

“I’m here most Wednesdays and Fridays after school. If you’re free… I wouldn’t say no to the company”

A warm feeling began to bloom in his chest and Derek laughed softly whilst making his way towards the door “see you next Wednesday Stiles”.

“See you then Sourwolf”

Leaving the cafe Derek felt significantly lighter like a weight had shifted itself from his shoulders and he hoped that Stiles felt the same way after their talk. And sometime during the short drive back to the loft, it occurred to Derek that whilst it might be too late for him to develop a romantic relationship with Stiles like he wanted, he could still be a good friend to the teen. 

After all, it seemed like Stiles needed all the good friends he could get.

 

Stiles POV

 

Shoving a few extra changes of clothes into his backpack as well as his phone charger Stiles nodded to himself, satisfied that he had everything he needed for the weekend. 

“Stiles..”

Biting back a loud groan Stiles turned to see his dad leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, arms crossed and face set in determination. Frustration spiking at the possibility that his dad was going to back out of his promise to let him go to Nick’s, Stiles gripped his backpack and slung it over his shoulder in defiance. “You promised I could go to Nick’s on the weekend dad”. 

Eyes lowering his dad sighed “I know, and you’re still allowed to go as long as you’re back Sunday evening. But... I just wanted to talk about something with you”. 

Slumping backward Stiles sat on his bed with an inquisitive raise of a brow, secretly relieved that his dad wasn’t going to kick up a fuss after all. “Okay, shoot”. 

“I know you’re not dumb, but you’re a teenager and I just want to cover all my bases..”

Oh hell no

Leaping up Stiles barely managed to keep the vomit from springing up when he realized exactly where his dad was going with the conversation. “No! No! We have had this very awkward talk already, I was thirteen and I barely survived then. We are not going to have a repeat dad. Just fucking no”. 

Pursing his lips his dad stood his ground and persisted “I need to know that you’re being safe Stiles, especially with an older guy”. 

Stiles was pretty sure the sound he made in response was similar to the sound of a dying whale, a dying whale trying to sing opera with its very last breath. 

His dad rolled his eyes “Stiles! I’m being serious, promise me you’ll not rush into things with this guy, don’t let him pressure you into doing anything that would make you feel comfortable and for god's sake if you do end up doing anything, use protection”. 

Stiles slapped his hands over his face to muffle his embarrassed groans and to hide the fact that his cheeks had turned a very unattractive shade of bright red. 

“Daaaaaaaad”

“Promise me, Stiles!”

Peeking through his fingers at his father’s deadly serious expression Stiles heaved out a big sigh “fine! I promise to not rush things or to let Nick pressure me into anything AND I promise to use protection”.

Dragging his hands from his face Stiles glared half-heartedly at the older man, his cheeks still burning like the surface of the sun. “Happy now?” he asked sarcastically, gaining only a scowl in reply. 

Luckily for Stiles, Nick chose that exact moment to beep his car horn from the front of the house, signaling his arrival. Letting out a whoosh of air in relief, his cheeks ballooning like a chipmunk Stiles stood up, approaching his dad and slapping the man on the shoulder awkwardly. “See you on Sunday Pops”. 

Jogging down the stairs Stiles rolled his eyes as his dad’s voice called out behind him “and don’t make it late! You have school on Monday!!”. 

Not bothering to respond Stiles threw open the front door and sprinted down towards the familiar red Chevrolet and its owner. Nick’s hair was in a low bun with a few sandy yellow strands falling loose and framing his face, his blue eyes peeking at Stiles cheekily over his sunglasses. Slipping into the passenger side Stiles opened his mouth to greet Nick cheerfully but found himself occupied by Nick’s lips on his. 

Humming happily, Stiles closed his eyes and returned the kiss with equal vigor as Nick’s hand snaked around his waist to press him closer. 

It took Stiles more than a few seconds for his brain to get over the intoxicating taste of Nick’s smooth lips and remember that he was still outside his own house.

His own house, with his already very overprotective dad. 

His dad who carries a firearm with him because he’s a fucking Sheriff!

Pulling away Stiles smacked Nick lightly on the chest “Nick!! My dad is watching and he already hates your guts enough!”. Laughing Nick gazed over Stiles’ head at the older man glaring daggers at him whilst Stiles blushed in embarrassment. 

“He looks friendly, are you sure he doesn’t like me?”

Hitting him again Stiles bit back a smile and shook his head “stop teasing him! He has a gun and he’s not afraid to use it”. Holding up his hands in mock surrender Nick turned back to the wheel and restarted the car, engine rumbling he turned his head one last time towards the older Stilinski and waved enthusiastically with a grin.

“NICK!”

 

\---time Skip---

 

Stiles laughed loudly as Nick tackled him on the sofa in response to having popcorn thrown in his face. They had been marathoning all the Star Wars movies when Stiles decided to start a war with his unsuspecting boyfriend.

“Don’t you dare, don’t you-NO” bursting out into another round of uncontrollable giggles Stiles swatted uselessly at Nick’s chest, the older man hovering over him and tickling his sides mercilessly. 

“Stoppp!! Or... I’ll.. pEEe on yo..Your cCOUCH!” Stiles warned through gasping breaths earning himself a look of disbelief as Nick halted in his assault. “You wouldn’t really pee on my couch would you?”. 

Snorting Stiles rolled his eyes, his face still flushed from laughing so hard “pfft no, but it got you to stop didn’t it?”. Shaking his head Nick leant down and kissed Stiles on the tip of his nose “you really are incorrigible Mr. Stilinski”. Grinning Stiles batted his eyelashes as he propped himself up onto his elbows “aw, do you say that to all the guys you meet?”. 

Smirking Nick flicked a strand of hair from where it had fallen in his eyes, “hmm only the special ones”. 

Wiggling his brows Stiles teased lightly “oh so I’m special then?”. Gazing at him with fondness Nick smiled “more than you know”. Blushing Stiles shoved Nick to the side and trained his attention back onto the tv screen, Luke Skywalker clinging to the platform with one hand as Vader stood at the opposite end.

“Shh, you’re going to miss the best part!!”


	19. chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick is up to no good and Stiles makes a decision after a particularly bad nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi *waves* enjoy the chapter!!

Nick’s POV

 

Trailing his fingers down the side of Stiles’ peacefully sleeping face, Nick sent a wave of magic out, smothering the teens' consciousness deeper under the spell of sleep like a heavy blanket. 

He needed to make sure Stiles wouldn’t wake up and interrupt him. 

Confident that the teen wouldn’t be waking anytime soon Nick moved his hand upwards, threading his fingers through the thick dark strands of hair and then pulling sharply.

Stiles huffed a bit in his sleep but didn’t wake.

Smirking in triumph Nick observed the hair clasped tightly between his thumb and forefinger “perfect”. Placing the strands of hair into a small press seal bag Nick moved onto the next thing he needed.

Blood.

Reaching into his pocket Nick swapped the press seal bag for a small glass vial and a penknife. Flicking out the blade Nick inspected the sharpness with a keen eye before deeming it appropriate for the task at hand. Unscrewing the top on the vail Nick placed it to the side on the nightstand before picking up Stiles’ limp hand which lay conveniently on the teen’s stomach. 

Picking a digit at random Nick pressed the blade of the knife to the fingertip and made a small incision. Blood welled to the surface eagerly as Nick quickly grabbed the vial, placing it underneath the steadily bleeding cut in order to collect the thick droplets. 

Stiles never stirred. 

After a minute or so where Nick applied pressure to the wound to elicit more blood, he finally deemed the vial to be full enough. Screwing the top back onto the vial Nick slipped it back into his pocket along with the knife. Tilting his head he watched, transfixed as a final deep red droplet of blood trickled out of the cut, trailing down the length of the finger, across the palm before stopping at the wrist. 

Giving in to his overwhelming desire, Nick lifted the hand up towards his mouth, tongue sliding out between his lips to press against the slightly warm flesh. Eyes closed in pleasure Nick’s tongue followed the trail back up towards its source, his taste buds tingling as he savored the metallic tang with an underlying sweetness. Rubbing his tongue against the cut on the skin Nick sighed as his magic closed the wound. Pressing a gentle kiss to the now unblemished surface Nick grinned as he whispered in the darkness. 

“Soon Stiles, the only person you’ll need in your life will be me”. 

Now all he needed was a blood moon.

 

 

~#~#~#~#~ Stiles’ POV

 

Stiles was stalling again, only this time instead of standing on his front porch after a great first date, Stiles was sitting in the passenger side of Nick’s car after spending another amazing weekend with the man. A weekend filled with laughter, warm kisses and movie marathons like he was in some sort of romantic comedy and not a supernatural horror. 

Honestly? He didn’t want it to end.

But unfortunately, it had to because Stiles was still a teenager and needed to attend high school. And he doubted his dad would ever warm up to Nick if Stiles dropped out of school and became like a sugar baby or whatever. Although that particular thought amused him a lot when he pictured what his dad’s face would be like.

“I’ll text you later okay?” Nick leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Stiles’ pouting lips, nodding Stiles smiled before slipping out of the car with a wave, backpack in hand. 

The sky had long since turned a dusky shade of sunset, the clock pushing closer to 7 pm with every step Stiles took up the path. Walking into his house felt like waking up from a fantastic dream and being thrown headfirst back into reality. Especially when the sight which greeted him was one of his dad sitting hunched over the kitchen table with a beer in hand and case files spread in front of him. 

“Got called into work?” Stiles questioned innocently, his curiosity spiking when spotting the blood-spattered crime scene photos. His dad grunted and shook his head “Nah, you remember the retired Sheriff who moved to the next town over? He came to the BBQ last year at the station and you accidentally set his toupee on fire trying to ...well nobody knows what you were trying to do”.

Wincing at the memory of the event and the angry fat man who screamed at him for what seemed like hours for an honest mistake, Stiles nodded “vividly yes. How is he?”. 

“Dead with his own tongue shoved down his throat”.

Swallowing in shock Stiles took a hesitant step forward “what?”.

Pressing the chilled surface of the beer bottle to his forehead his dad slapped his free hand down on the crime scene photographs, attempting to gather them up and hide them back in the case file. Rolling his eyes at his dad’s overprotective behavior Stiles dumped his backpack and pulled out the other chair “come on dad! I’ve probably seen worse watching horror movies with Scott”. 

The older man frowned deeply by conceded, Stiles reaching forward with greedy fingers and picking up the photographs, studying them with a look of intense concentration. 

“No sign of breaking and entering?” Stiles asked, his eyes drawn towards the particularly gruesome close-up shot of the victim’s face, his mouth frozen open in rigor mortis, eyes bulging like an obese pug. Blood stained the lips and the corners of the mouth, detailing how the blood had traveled out from the mouth and down the sides, pooling on the kitchen floor around the ears and neck.

It was a lot of blood. 

But, Stiles guessed that that was normal considering the man’s tongue had been sliced out of his mouth. 

Shaking his head his dad replied with a sigh “no sign of any forced entry so the attacker had to know the victim”. Pursing his lips Stiles furrowed his brow, examining the other crime scene shots, the crack in the hallway wall and the rubber marks on the floor from the soles of the victim’s shoes.

“Not really”

Raising a single eyebrow in his direction his dad sat a little straighter in his seat, placing his beer to the side before indicating for Stiles to continue. Sparing his dad a brief glance Stiles chewed his bottom lip “well...if you take into account the other evidence, the crack in the wall directly in front of the front door, and the scuff marks on the floor then someone could have just as easily knocked on the door and then overpowered him as soon as he answered. The attacker probably grabbed Mr. Brown whilst he was winded from hitting the wall and then dragged him into the kitchen”. 

His dad grinned at him with obvious pride, and whilst the situation was rather unconventional Stiles still found his chest warming at the knowledge that he’d caused something other than disappointment.

“You’re going to make a great officer someday, son” 

Placing the photos back onto the table Stiles shrugged one shoulder whilst smiling slightly at the praise. “Thanks, dad”. 

“So if you haven’t been called into the station. Then how come you’re working on the case?” Stiles questioned, eager to draw the attention away from himself and back to the matter at hand. His dad sighed deeply before answering, his fingers tapping on the folder surface “I’m not working the case, not really. Dianne his ex-wife asked me to take a look after the precinct ruled it as a home robbery gone wrong”.

Stiles pulled a face “that’s bullshit, nothing was stolen, right? And you wouldn’t just cut someone's tongue out cause they walked in on you robbing their house! I mean… a tongue?? That’s personal”. His dad nodded in agreement “robberies gone wrong usually end in shootings or stabbings. You’d have to hold someone down and pry open their mouth to do what was done to Brown, an awful lot of effort for some loose cash and some family silverware”. 

Picking at the skin on his fingers nervously Stiles took a deep breath “so what are you going to do?”. His dad got up, grabbing the empty beer bottle and throwing it into the recycling as he grunted in frustration “nothing I can do kid, it’s not my jurisdiction. I can only advise Dianne to appeal the decision and ask for a reinvestigation”. Chewing his bottom lip Stiles nodded in understanding, he had no doubt in his mind that if his dad could do something about it he would, his dad was a good man like that, a good Sheriff. 

“How was your weekend with Nick?” sitting back down at the table his dad began collecting all the documents and photos in order to place them neatly back in the file. Blush crawling up the sides of his neck Stiles cleared his throat, feeling more than a little awkward at discussing his boyfriend with his own dad, so he kept his answer short “It was good, we just watched a bunch of movies”. “Great, great. That’s ..that’s good” rubbing the back of his neck his dad stumbled over his words, clearly wanting to say something more but holding himself back. 

Uncomfortable with the new atmosphere Stiles got up from the table, intending to make his way upstairs only to stop at the bottom when his dad’s weary voice spoke up behind him. 

“Love you, son”

Smiling to himself Stiles began to ascend the stairs “love you too, pops”. 

\---time Skip---

 

“It’s your fault, Stiles! It’s ALL YOUR FAULT!!!”

Scooting backwards frantically, Stiles shook his head, a sob falling from his lips as his best friend prowled closer.

“I’m sorry Scottie, I swear! I-I never meant...”

“YOU were the one that wanted to find half a dead body in the woods, and YOU were the one that left me there to be bitten by Peter!!” bright amber eyes flared murderously, a snarl twisting across Scott’s lips as he pounced.

Fighting uselessly against the supernaturally tight grip which pinned him to the ground, Stiles tried desperately to get the other teen to listen to him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

“NO!! No more apologizing! I’m a monster, Stiles!! And It’s all your fucking fault!! So now... Now I’m going to make sure you’re a monster too”

And just like that Scott’s face shifted, his jaw jerking open to reveal the elongated fangs before diving downwards. Razor sharp teeth sliced through the flesh of Stiles’ shoulder like a knife through warm butter, blood bubbling to the surface as pain seared through every nerve ending. 

A fire ignited inside his veins, spreading across every muscle and infecting every organ until his whole body burned. 

And all he could do was scream.

Lying there, clutching his dad like a lifeline as he shuddered and cried like a scared little kid, Stiles decided he’d had enough. 

He’d go see Deaton.


	20. chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answers are finally given and all Stiles ever wanted was to be human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TA-DAAA!!!! the reveeeaaaaaall :P also don't bother googling the latin words, they're literally just random shit I picked that sounded witchy-woo-y

Stiles’s POV

 

“Ah, Stiles! Derek informed me that you might be popping in sometime this week, didn’t expect you to be here so soon though. Isn’t your favorite motto to avoid your problems until they go away?”. 

Stiles sighed adjusting the backpack strap so it eased off digging into his shoulder as he walked into the backroom of the vet clinic, “turns out you can’t avoid sleep. At least not for long”. 

“Well… hop up Mr. Stilinski and I’ll have a look” Deaton smiled patting the surface of the examination table. Stiles suddenly started to feel a lot more nervous about the whole arrangement, and when the teen was nervous, he joked. 

“You’re not going to take my temperature, are you? Because I’m drawing the line at having you shove something up my butt, mystical or not”. 

The vet simply rolled his eyes and Stiles felt a little better, there was always something comforting about people finding Stiles annoying, almost like a confirmation that his world really hadn’t turned upside down. Sliding his backpack off his shoulder Stiles set it on the floor beside his feet before jumping up onto the metal table. 

Swinging his legs like an overgrown child Stiles clapped his hands together and gave Deaton a smile “alright, witch doctor, let’s get this over and done with”.

All in all the whole process took about an hour, and if asked, Stiles would honestly not be able to tell anybody what the older man actually did. The tests themselves seemed random and completely useless, ranging from Deaton shining a surgical penlight into Stiles’ eyes and telling him to look in different directions, to making him hold a large black crystal for five minutes. 

But Stiles was no Druid expert so he kept his mouth shut… a little. 

“Alright, just two more things to do and then I’ll have all the answers I need”, heaving out a sigh of relief Stiles muttered under his breath grumpily “took you long enough” which earned himself a raised brow. Cheeks warming Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, ashamed at his own attitude “sorry doc, I’m just tired”.

“I understand, but I did warn you all about the after effects of sacrificing yourselves to the Nemeton in order to find your parents” Deaton reminded gently, or at least as gently as a person could say I told you so. Which..wasn’t all that gentle to be completely honest. 

Nodding his head Stiles prepared himself for the inevitable disappointment of being told he was now stuck with terrifying nightmares for the rest of his life just because he wanted to save his own father.

That disappointment never came.

“I’ll be more certain after these two tests but I think it is fairly safe to say, Stiles, that your nightmares have nothing to do with the sacrifice” 

Brows furrowing, Stiles swallowed down the small amount of hope which bubbled up at the Druid’s words and the prospect of there being something he can do to fix it, and instead focussed on getting answers “so why am I having them then?”. Pulling out a small medical needle from a sterile packet, Deaton gestured for Stiles to hold out his arm. Gulping nervously Stiles stuck out his arm, secretly hoping that the other man wouldn’t be drawing too much blood. After all, it went against all natural survival instincts not to panic when seeing your own blood OUTSIDE of your body.

Smiling enigmatically Deaton cradled Stiles’ elbow with one hand whilst using the other to plunge the needle into the vein just sitting underneath the skin. “You’re going through what we, in the magical community like to refer to as puberty” never missing a beat Deaton kept a tight hold on the teen’s arm, securing the needle as the vial slowly filled.

“WH-OUCH!!! WHAT THE FUCK DUDE!” Stiles jolted in Deaton’s grip causing the needle to yank at the skin, the words slowly registering in his mind. “Stay still Mr. Stilinski!” Deaton snapped as he stopped the needle from completely pulling out. 

Glaring heatedly at the Druid, Stiles pressed his lips shut forcefully and kept still until the small vial was filled and the needle was removed. Wordlessly Deaton handed Stiles a cotton ball to press to the small wound as he labeled and placed the vial in a small fridge.

Flushing with embarrassment Stiles pressed the cotton into the crook of his elbow before opening his mouth to rant at the so-called emissary. “No offense dude, but no way am I going through puberty. Trust me, I’ve been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Didn’t they teach you basic human biology before you decided you wanted to stick thermometers up poor animal’s asses for a living!”. Deaton ignored him, instead focussing on rifling through his many cupboards and drawers until he found what he was looking for and turning back towards Stiles, a single white feather clasped between his fingers and an amused smile on his lips. “Puberty is just a term we like to use when referencing the period of time where a person possessing the ability of magic, actually starts to develop their powers” he explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Which, to Stiles, it fucking wasn’t.

Because A, puberty also means normal human things so it wasn’t his fault he got confused and B, magic possessing person? Did that mean... 

Throat threatening to close up in a display of panic Stiles gripped his elbow a little too tightly, the skin underneath the cotton ball no doubt bruising underneath his hold. “Magic possessing person? As in… they have magic”. 

Eyebrows twitching towards his non-existent hairline Deaton nodded “yes, that is generally what is meant when using the words ‘magic possessing person’, Stiles”. 

“And.. and you think.. I’m..one of...those people?” Stiles croaked out, his brain refusing to move past simple thought processing.

“Yes. Now, any bleeding should have been stopped by the cotton so if you can set that aside and hold this feather in one palm that would be ideal, thank you”. Wordlessly Stiles followed Deaton’s directions, setting the cotton onto the table surface beside him before holding out a cupped hand for the feather.

The feather was soft against the sensitive skin of his hand and Stiles had to hold back a giggle as Deaton placed it in his palm. It was a rather ordinary looking feather, nothing special to be noted about it other than its unnaturally white shade. 

“I want you to focus now Stiles, concentrate everything inside and channel it outwards towards your palm, tell the feather what you want it to do. Make it float” Deaton instructed, folding his arms and leaning back to no doubt watch Stiles make a fool of himself. 

Glancing briefly at Deaton’s determined features, Stiles quickly came to the conclusion that arguing with the Druid would simply be a waste of time, and instead set out to prove the other wrong. Nose scrunched up in concentration Stiles took a deep breath and zeroed his vision in on the feather, focussing his mind on the object in his palm and commanding it to float just as the vet had instructed.  
Minutes began to pass, and when nothing so much as a gentle breeze lifted the feather from his palm, Stiles started to feel a smug sense of satisfaction, convinced that he’d proven Deaton wrong. 

Opening his mouth Stiles intended on pointing this out to the older man but stopped as a tingling sensation began to travel down his right arm and gather at the center of his hand where the feather sat. Brows lowered in confusion Stiles curled his fingers as the tingling increased, the feather twitching. 

Within a split second, the tingling turned to a burning heat. 

Letting out a startled yell Stiles flailed, nearly falling off the table as the feather in his palm burst violently into flames. Flapping his hand around in a frantic attempt to avoid being burned by the fire, Stiles sighed in relief when the flames extinguished. Bringing the palm to his face Stiles studied the unblemished and still cool skin with a shaky laugh, whispering to himself in awe “what the fuck”.

“Stiles..”

Tearing his eyes away from his hand was difficult, but Stiles managed to do it because of the unusual amount of sincerity echoing in Deaton’s tone. Swiping his tongue against his bottom lip nervously, Stiles’ gaze connected wearily with the older man’s. 

“You have a very special gift. Most would kill to have what you have. But you need to listen to me very carefully, because if you don’t get your Spark under control... you run the very real risk of destroying yourself, and many others”

The adrenaline rush from setting the feather on fire with his freakin MIND faded rapidly with the seriousness of Deaton’s words. Swallowing thickly Stiles drew his hand to his chest, almost as if he could protect the world from the power it held. “How, how do I control it?” the teen questioned softly, his eyes flickering down to the offending appendage like he wanted to cut the very thing from his body. 

He didn’t want to hurt anybody. 

Not anymore.

Seemingly pleased that Stiles was taking the situation at hand seriously Deaton uncrossed his arms and stepped forward. “Your power is connected to your emotions, as most Spark’s are, so balance is key. To achieve the balance you need to control your emotions, that’s why you’re having those nightmares Stiles, and that’s why the feather set on fire. You’re feeling unstable so your magic is unstable and is lashing out”. 

“I’m not feeling unstable!” Stiles argued, his chest clenching at the lie and his arm beginning to tingle again. Not wanting to set anything else on fire Stiles slammed his eyes shut as he sighed in defeat. “Alright! Fine. Maybe… maybe I have been feeling a bit... angry ..and guilty about stuff”. Nodding Deaton hummed thoughtfully “you’re angry at yourself, your magic is channeling that and punishing you with nightmares”. 

“… like magical self-harm” Stiles mumbled to himself in a moment of cold realization. Lips set into a firm line Stiles lifted his chin in determination “alright, what do I have to do to control this thing?”. 

Smiling at Stiles, Deaton clasped his hands firmly on the teen's skinny shoulders, his usually stoic brown eyes glinting mischievously.

“Well, first of all, we’re going to need a lot more feathers”

 

Deaton’s POV

 

Pouring the vial of Stiles’ blood into the granite mortar Deaton picked up the pestle and began to mix the liquid in with the crushed leaves of the bergamot plant, a few pinches of black salt, vinegar, rose water, and sage blossom petals. 

With the mixture suitably combined, the Emissary began to chant slowly, his eyes closed as he focussed on the heavy stone bowl in his hands

“Decio inka terisay savito, inka terisay omoptio”

The sage blossom’s which had been floating so perfectly on top of the deep red liquid started to twirl in small circles faster and faster before sinking completely into the thick blood mixture. Watching the completely still surface for a few seconds, Deaton frowned deeply as the small flowers rose back up, the previously soft lilac petals now shriveled and blackened with decay.

“As I thought”

Placing the mortar quickly to the side, Deaton reached into his pocket and dialed the number he knew off by heart, speaking into the phone as soon as he heard the other person pick up. 

“Derek, I think we have a problem”


	21. chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When there's something wroooong in ya neighbourhooddddd who ya gonna call??
> 
> DE-REK HALE!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Deaton is harrrrrdd >:( but enjoy the random lore I just made up

Derek’s POV

 

Derek was pretty sure he had broken a few speeding laws in order to get to Deaton’s clinic as fast as he did.

But he didn’t care. Not when the vet had rung him sounding so concerned.

Concerned about Stiles.

Rushing into the back room of the clinic with a low rumbling growl and bright red eyes, Derek resisted the urge to roar as he addressed Deaton in urgency “what’s wrong? What happened? Where’s Stiles?”.

Calmer than Derek could ever claim to be the Emissary replied, only partly answering Derek’s litany of questions with his arms crossed over his chest and a furrow in his brow “Stiles is at home, Derek. And I need you to calm down before I tell you anything else”.

Clenching his fists Derek breathed out slowly through his nose, trying hard to pacify his inner wolf’s urge to protect his pack, to protect Stiles. A few tense moments passed with not even a whisper between the clinic’s occupants as Derek shoved the growling beast down into the recesses of his mind. Uncurling his fingers somewhat reluctantly, Derek retracted his claws, the wounds in both of his palms closing up as soon as the razor-sharp nails stopped pressing into the skin. 

More time passed and Derek could tell that his eyes were still a deep burning red no matter how hard he tried to make them return to normal. Seemingly sensing that Derek was struggling and that this was probably as calm as the Alpha was going to get, Deaton finally started to speak. 

“Stiles visited me today so I could run some tests to see if the Nemeton was causing his night terrors. It became evident early on that this was not the case and that Stiles is suffering because of backlash from his uncontrolled magic”

Derek frowned his eyes flashing back to green in confusion “wait, Stiles is magic?”. Huffing at the interruption Deaton rose a single brow in his direction causing the Alpha to shift and mumble under his breath, embarrassed, “sorry, continue”. 

Deaton began speaking again, his crisp tone leaving no room for Derek to cut in with any more pointless questions. “As I was saying, I quickly diagnosed the problem and informed Mr. Stilinski of such. Whilst I admit I was surprised at the amount of seriousness he showed over the matter, I have full faith that he will learn to control his abilities. However, this is not the reason I called you here Derek. The reason I called is as I was conducting the tests on Stiles I noticed a very strong, foreign magical presence intertwined with his. I extracted some blood to make sure that this wasn’t simply a symptom of the sacrifice and I’m afraid it isn’t”. Deaton paused and tilted his head at Derek with a somber expression “do you know what a Warlock is Derek?”. 

Shrugging Derek shook his head causing Deaton to sigh. 

“There are four kinds of beings which can do magic, the most common are Druids, Warlocks and Potentials. As a Druid, I draw my magic from the four elements earth, air, fire and water, the relationship is balanced and therefore I am bound by their limitations. Potentials, the clue is in the name, they’re individuals with the potential of becoming Druid’s but do not unlock their true power through lack of knowledge, or other reasons. Warlocks gain magic by stealing it, or as they call it siphoning. Essentially they suck all the magical ability out of a person and convert it into their own magical energy”. 

Derek nodded along, showing he was understanding what the older man was saying “like a magical leech?”. Smiling cynically at Derek, Deaton uncrossed his arms “Warlocks, I’m afraid are a bit more deadly than leeches Derek. The Potentials that have the unfortunate luck of finding themselves siphoned end up dead”.

Brow furrowed low Derek digested the information Deaton had given with his usual intensity, his lips pulled into a frown. “You only mentioned three, you said there are four types of beings, what’s the last one?”. 

Deaton pushed away from the bench, making his way towards a locked storage cupboard on the other side of the room, Derek watching in confusion as he unlocked the door and stepped inside. After a few seconds, he emerged from the depths of the cupboard, his hands grasping a small and worn looking journal. Eyes glued to the object in his hands Deaton flipped open to a specific page before handing it across to Derek.

Fingers gently clasping in the journal Derek tilted his head, observing the slightly torn and wrinkled page. Various symbols and words were scrawled across the surface around an illustration. The ink drawing showing a figure of undetermined gender sitting cross-legged in the middle of the page, hands held aloft either side of its body with palms facing the sky. In the center of the figure spanning the length and breadth of the torso sat a tree, its thick and twisting branches made of interlocking Celtic knots. 

“The fourth kind, are Sparks. People born with an incredibly rare ability to produce their own magic. They’re not limited to drawing their powers from outside sources like Warlock’s or Druids and are therefore the most powerful type. Some Celts believed that those gifted with a Spark came from fruit borne by the tree of life, the fruit dropping to the ground, seeds burying into the soil and then growing into a human”. 

Dragging his eyes away from the picture on the page Derek raised a brow at Deaton “and what do you believe?”. Deaton smirked “oddly enough, I’m not a fan of the fruit-human idea Derek. The point is, Sparks are an unlimited well of power, and if a Warlock ever found a Spark… then the consequences would be dire”. 

Cradling the book with one hand Derek reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose with the other “I don’t understand what all of this has to do with Stiles? Or the foreign presence that’s intertwined with him?”. 

The look Deaton gave Derek almost made him flush in embarrassment, the older man clearly thinking that the connection was obvious. Glancing back down at the page Derek chewed on his bottom lip and tried to connect the information in his mind.  
Finally, it clicked. Derek stiffening his shoulders, eyes blazing bright red once again as they reconnected with Deaton’s. 

“Stiles is a Spark and the presence you found... It was from a Warlock wasn’t it?”

Nodding Deaton placed his hands on the surgical table between himself and the Alpha, his expression grim “and by the looks of it, they already have their claws sunk pretty deep in Stiles’ mind”. Lips curling into a growl Derek slammed the journal shut, his knuckles turning white as he gripped it tightly to stop his claws from making a reappearance. “What do we do?”. 

“We need to find something to protect Stiles from the influence, a talisman of some sorts but we have to do it without him realizing. It’s imperative that he doesn’t suspect anything, he can’t know what we do” Deaton explained, putting emphasis on his words so Derek would understand the importance. Anger flashed through Derek like a bolt of lightning, fierce and all-consuming “Stiles has a right to know! You said Warlock’s kill who they siphon from right? He’s in danger!”. 

Deaton leveled Derek with a burning glare “because right now Stiles isn’t in immediate danger! We let him know something is wrong, then the Warlock will know and we haven’t even figured out who it is yet! Warlock’s are dangerous at the best of times Derek, but when they feel cornered? It becomes a whole lot more serious. Our best bet is to get the talisman and then go from there”. 

Huffing in obvious displeasure Derek jabbed an accusatory finger in Deaton’s direction “fine, we do things your way. But if Stiles gets hurt because YOU decided he shouldn’t be told about the Warlock, you won’t just have the Sheriff to worry about”. 

Smirking at the unusual amount of protectiveness in Derek’s tone, Deaton raised a single amused brow “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind”.


	22. chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles now hates Harry Potter because magic is an asshole and more beautiful emotional shit happens because STEREK!! YEAH!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blaaah! this took a while to get out, mostly because I've been busy the past few days and have had zero time to sit and write ¬.¬ wELP I hope ya like it

Stiles’ POV

 

Stiles was frustrated.

Beyond frustrated in fact.

He was completely and utterly pissed.

47\. Forty-fucking-seven, that was how many feathers Stiles had murdered in a magical display of spontaneous combustion the past two days. 

And not one, not a single one had floated even a millimeter off his hand.

Groaning pathetically Stiles rested his head against the cool wooden surface of the cafe table, it was Wednesday and not even his favorite Belgian chocolate brownie and a supersize banana milkshake could make him feel better. 

A laugh interrupted his inner monologuing followed by an amused inquiry. 

“Comfortable?”

Turning his head so his cheek stayed squashed against the wood whilst his eyes sought out the source of the mockery, Stiles glared half-heartedly at the smirking werewolf who had made himself comfortable on the seat opposite. 

“Har, har. The Sourwolf has a sense of humor, someone call the press!” the teen grumbled moodily, a childish pout settling itself on his lips. Derek shook his head, smirk widening into something that looked suspiciously like a smile “alright, what gives? Aren’t I supposed to be the sour one?”. 

Lifting his head up so it rested on his curled fist instead of the table, Stiles huffed “I hate feathers, I hate magic. Harry Potter made it look way too easy and it’s not!”. Derek tried to look confused at Stiles ranting about magic, but it was wasted, Stiles wasn’t an idiot. 

“Oh don’t give me that look big bad wolf! I knew as soon as I left the clinic that Deaton would have rang you and told you all the dirty little details” Stiles rolled his eyes dismissively, as Derek turned sheepish. “Sorry” the Alpha scratched the back of his neck earning a shrug from Stiles “chill dude, you’re the Alpha, right? It’s like… your job description to know about any supernatural things that happen so you can protect the town”. 

I just never thought I’d be one of the things you’d have to protect the town from

Stiles scrunched up his nose as the bitter thought flashed in his mind, a sharp pang of fear spiking through his stomach. The feathers were getting to him, and the dreams, and Deaton’s warnings about his power. It was all just becoming a little too much.

Caught up in his own thoughts Stiles missed the look of determination that crossed Derek’s face “have you got some feathers with you?”. Blinking slowly at Derek, Stiles nodded “yeah in my backpack, why?”. The Alpha stood up in one swift movement, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder towards the doors “come on, the loft is empty so you can spend the afternoon practicing there, a change in scenery might be just what you need”. 

Twisting his lips Stiles considered Derek’s offer, quickly coming to the conclusion that he had nothing else to lose by giving it a shot. Getting up Stiles grabbed his backpack “alright then, just wait here whilst I pay and then I’ll follow you in the jeep”. Derek nodded and Stiles spun on his heel, heading towards the counter to pay his bill.

Once the bill was settled Stiles approached Derek who was smiling softly at the screen of his phone, fingers typing what Stiles guessed was a reply. Stiles liked it when Derek smiled, it made the older man look softer, more like the 22-year-old he was meant to be, and less like a man who had fought a war and lost everything in the battle. Stiles especially liked seeing Derek’s cute little front teeth, they reminded him of a bunny rabbit, a cute little were-bunny, or would it be were-rabbit? A were-bun? 

Raising his brows Stiles cocked his head, “not keeping you from anything important am I?” a traitorous little whisper echoed in his brain, teasing him about the possibility that Derek was texting a girlfriend or even a… boyfriend. Coughing forcefully, Stiles shoved down the stab of jealousy he felt at the prospect of Derek dating someone else, firmly reminding himself that he had Nick now, and therefore shouldn’t care about the Alpha’s love life.

Derek tore his eyes away from his phone screen to grin at Stiles, completely oblivious of the teen's inner turmoil “Nah, it’s just Cora telling me how much she hates her history partner”. Stiles smiled in relief, and then instantly felt guilty for even being relieved in the first place. 

“So how is Cora? She’s in South America right?” Stiles scratched the back of his head as he followed Derek out the door, eager to distract himself from the weird and confusing feelings he was currently experiencing. “She’s great, the pack she’s staying with are old family friends so I know she safe. She’s always nagging me about moving though, keeps sending me these really pretty scenic pictures she takes to try and tempt me” Derek commented fondly, shaking his head as he pulled his car keys from his jacket pocket. 

Biting his bottom lip Stiles kicked the pavement with the toe of his shoe as they neared where both of their cars were parked, coincidentally next to each other. A question which had bugged him for a while tumbling out of his lips before he could stop it “why don’t you? move, I mean. Not that I want you to or anything but… Beacon Hills isn’t exactly full of good memories for you, is it? Why stay?”. His words made Derek pause, the Alpha stopping to lean against the side of his Camaro, keys twisting between his fingers as he half faced Stiles, his answer slow but certain. “I’ve tried running away before, it… never works out. Beacon Hills is Hale pack territory, it always will be. Nowhere else would ever be home because home is here, even if home is painful sometimes and filled with ghosts. I grew up here, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t turn my back away from that”. Pausing he spared Stiles a small smile, green eyes staring deeply and earnestly into brown “plus, this town isn’t just bad memories anymore, and there are people here worth staying for”. 

Stiles nodded, the most obvious answer coming to him “the pack right?”. Derek turned away, unlocking his doors before sliding in “yeah… pack”. 

\---time skip---

“See! It’s impossible! These dumb feathers are defective, they came from an evil bird with a vendetta against me” Stiles exclaimed dramatically as another delicate white plume burnt itself to a smoldering crisp in his palm. 

The number of flambéed feathers in total had risen to 56.

Derek rolled his eyes from his position on one of the many comfy looking armchairs, a book clutches loosely in his hands “and why would a bird have a vendetta against you Stiles?”. Squinting his eyes at the Alpha, Stiles huffed, as if taking personal offense at Derek's question because the answer should be obvious “they’re birds, Derek, they don’t need a reason”. Shaking his head in mild exasperation Derek rose from the seat, discarding the book against the arm before approaching the sulking teen sitting cross-legged on the floor. 

“Maybe you’re not concentrating enough”

“And maybe you should be less of a dick to the guy who can make things combust with his mind!” Stiles retorted, irritated that Derek had even suggested he wasn’t putting all of his efforts into the task. Completely unaffected by the surly attitude being thrown his way, Derek sank down to the polished hardwood, taking up a similar position as Stiles. Settling close enough, Stiles noted silently to himself, that their knees were at risk of touching if either moved so much as an inch. 

“Can I see your hand?” 

Wrinkling his upturned nose Stiles shoved his hand towards the Alpha with a dismissive one shoulder shrug “it’s not burnt, it’s weird but the fire doesn’t hurt me”. The last thing Stiles expect was for a set of warm, deeply tanned fingers to encircle his right wrist, thumb lingering against the cool pale stretch of skin above the pulse before rubbing soothingly up and down. Swallowing thickly, Stiles instantly regretted giving the other his hand, his heart beginning to beat fast and hard in his chest like a war drum, his body reacting almost instinctively to the Alpha’s tender touch. 

God, he really hoped Derek wasn't taking any notice of his heartbeat right now. 

“You’re too tense” Derek grunted, his head tilting as his eyes stared at the half curled hand in his grasp. Choking out a distinctly high pitched wheeze, Stiles stuttered a sarcastic response, his cheeks flushing deeply “really? Oh well that explains everything! Thank you, oh wise Alpha!”. Flicking his eyes upwards Derek spared Stiles withering glance before adjusting his grip, his thumb sweeping down across the soft flesh of Stiles’ palms, delicately massaging in the tense muscles under the skin. Breath threatening to hitch in his lungs from the pleasant feeling, Stiles bit his lip hard enough to nearly draw blood. 

Sweet baby Jesus. 

“You’re thinking too much, worrying that you’re doing it wrong. The magic is a part of you, it needs to feel natural, like breathing” Derek explained, seeming completely unaware of the effect he was having on Stiles, much to Stiles’ relief. Swiping his tongue across his now sore bottom lip Stiles scowled, desperate to make himself feel any other emotion other than bliss from Derek's touch “that’s easy for you to say, you’re a born wolf. You’ve had all that time to accept who you are, to embrace it. I’ve basically been thrown into the magical deep end”. 

Derek laughed softly, his thumb continuing to rub, traveling across the lines decorating the palm’s surface, causing a small shiver to trickle down Stiles’ spine “believe it or not, I was actually a late bloomer. Everyone was convinced I was a human, like my dad”. 

Eyebrows shooting up in surprise, Stiles absorbed the new information like a greedy sponge, words tumbling from his lips, clumsy and somewhat breathless “your dad was human?”. Nodding Derek smiled fondly, his eyes still firmly glued on Stiles’ hand as he talked “and proud of it too. Most older werewolf families thought that humans would weaken the bloodline and frowned on interspecies relationships, but not mine. My mom believed that the only thing that mattered was love and that if you loved someone, whether they were a wolf, human or other, then that love was the most important thing”. 

Stiles grinned, imagining a dark-haired and tanned skinned woman with similar features to Derek standing strong and proud “your mom sounds like she was one cool Alpha”. 

Derek’s smile turned bittersweet, vestiges of sorrow dulling the upward turn of his lips “she was, and everyone looked up to her. She was always so wise and loving, determined to see the best in everyone. All the other pack Alpha’s would go to her for advice because they valued her opinion so much. I don't blame them either, and I never once envied Laura for being the oldest, for having to fill those shoes and learn to be the perfect Alpha everyone was expecting her to be. Laura was just like mom though, took to the role like a duck to water. Not like me, half the time I can’t even get the pack to communicate never mind work together”.

Snorting with suppressed laughter Stiles resisted the urge to outright cackle in Derek’s face “no offense dude, but if you think that’s got anything to do with how good of an Alpha you are, you’re an idiot. Your pack is a bunch of teenagers, and teenagers don’t listen, that’s like... common knowledge”. Smirking Derek locked eyes with Stiles, a single brow raised playfully “is that your way of saying I’m an okay Alpha?”. 

Stiles tilted his head in mock consideration, his face mirroring Derek’s expression “you could be worse, you could be like Peter”.

“Touché” Derek chuckled whilst reaching out with his free hand into the bag of feathers thrown carelessly to Stiles’ left, and pulling out a cluster of feathers, dropping them into Stiles’ right palm. 

“I’m only meant to float o-”

“Trust me, just… close your eyes, and breath” Derek murmured softly, staring deeply into Stiles’ eyes. Giving a small sigh Stiles did as Derek instructed, closing his eyes and shifting nervously, his empty hand clenching repeatedly before settling tentatively against his knee, fingers tapping subconsciously. Cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders a little bit to help relax, Stiles let out another sigh before muttering encouragingly to himself under his breath “alright, okay… here goes. Heeeree goees”.


	23. chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a feather breakthrough and some unexpected interaction between two male characters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek is pining harder than a Christmas Tree :P and it's really funny to write nyehehe

Derek’s POV

 

Derek had to fight back a smile as he watched Stiles close his eyes, his long dark lashes casting sweeping shadows across the bone arches of his mole dotted cheeks, his cupid’s bow lips pulled apart in concentration, deep breaths filtering past the supple pink flesh. 

It occurred to Derek then, quite suddenly, that in another world, a more perfect world where he hadn’t waited so long to tell Stiles how he felt, and where Stiles hadn’t already found someone else, that this would have been the moment where Derek would kiss Stiles for the first time. He could imagine it now in his mind's eye with such vividness that his body ached, envisioned himself leaning forward and brushing his mouth against Stiles’ parted lips, capturing them in a sweet embrace. Stiles’ eyes would fly open, pools of liquid Amber staring at him in tentative confusion as Derek pulled away.

And Derek would smile. His tingling lips stretching wide across his face before he would steal another kiss, already addicted to the teen's sweet taste. 

But… their world wasn't the perfect world, and Derek had missed his chance. Stiles was dating someone else, falling in love with someone else. With that sobering thought, Derek turned his attention back to Stiles’ hand lying gently in his, a niggling sense of guilt in his mind causing him to consider pulling away. 

But then he saw it. 

The feathers had begun to lift, one by one, up into the air, twirling and twisting around each other in an intricate dance, higher and higher. 

“Stiles…” Derek breathed out in an excited half whisper as he tried to catch the teen's attention without breaking his concentration. Stiles twitched at the sound of Derek’s voice breaking the silence, his face forming a frustrated scowl as he hissed a quiet reply “shh I’m concentrating”.

Huffing both in amusement and slight disbelief Derek watched as the feathers started to span outwards like a tornado of autumn leaves, one particularly enthusiastic white plume brushing across Derek’s nose. 

“Stiles.. open your eyes, please”

Snapping his eyes open Stiles growled at Derek between clenched teeth “what!?” and Derek just grinned, jerking his head upwards. Scowl still firmly in place Stiles flicked his gaze upwards another angry retort falling silent on his lips as his eyes took in the sight of the feathers dancing above their heads “oh… oh wow”.

The shock passed soon enough and Stiles began to laugh, the joyful sound filling Derek’s ears like a symphony. “Oh my god, I’m doing it, I’m…actually fucking doing it!” Stiles cheered, his eyes sparkling as a smile of sheer delight spread across his face. As if sensing the Spark’s joy the feathers began to move faster, snaking themselves around Stiles and Derek in a flurry. 

It was a truly magical moment and selfishly Derek didn’t want it to end, he wanted Stiles to stay with him, to continue letting him gently cup his hand like a delicate flower and to watch his face light up with pure happiness. 

But of course, since the universe itself had decided that all Derek deserved was a metaphorical punch to the dick, Stiles pulled his hand out of Derek’s grasp with a look of excited realization.

“I need to go show Deaton!!” 

Snatching up the bag of feathers Stiles’ long legs kicked outwards in a wild scramble as he got to his feet, practically leaping towards the loft doors and nearly tripping over his feet in his haste. “Thanks, Der!” the hyperactive teen yelled over his shoulder before disappearing out of the door, the heavy metal sliding shut behind him.

Palm already cold without the warm weight of Stiles’ hand in his Derek curled it into a fist and slumped backwards, his head and back hitting the floor with a thunk, eyes sliding closed. 

Something hit his face causing him to jolt, eyes jerking open in alertness at the threat. 

It was a feather.

Frowning Derek flicked the offending object off of his stubbled cheek with a growl, only to have another one land on his forehead. With Stiles gone the magic was wearing off, a dozen feathers now falling gently to the ground in a cascade of white. 

Great, now I need to sweep up

 

~#~#~#~#~ Stiles’ POV

 

“DOC YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THE MAGICAL SHIT I JUST PULLED OFF!”

Stiles fell through the back room of the clinic almost causing Deaton to drop the fat orange cat he was examining in deep concentration. 

“Mr Stilinski!” 

Skidding to a halt in the middle of the room Stiles took in the sight of the rooms other occupants, both of which were glaring at him. Deflating under the combined angry stare of one really ugly looking cat and one vet/wolf pack Emissary Stiles jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, his feet moving backwards in slow exaggeration.

“I’ll… just.. wait outside..”

Quickly retreating into the waiting room Stiles slumped into one of the itchy chairs his hand instinctively going towards his jean pocket in search of his phone. He needed to text Nick and see if their plans for the weekend were still on, Nick was going to take him to take him on a romantic nighttime picnic on the Saturday during the blood moon.

Patting around the empty pockets Stiles frowned, confused. 

Then he remembered he put it in his backpack. 

 

His backpack which he doesn’t have.

Because he left it on Derek’s couch.

“Aww, backpack, no”

 

~#~#~#~#~ Derek’s POV

 

Roughly twenty minutes had passed since Stiles had exited the loft before Derek finally noticed the teen’s backpack sitting innocently on his couch, ratty straps and ridiculous colored badges sticking out like a sore thumb against the expensive furniture. Smiling fondly with a shake of his head Derek left the object where it was, safe in the knowledge that once Stiles realized he had forgotten it he would rush back to Derek’s to pick it up. 

And Derek was happy to leave it at that. At least until the backpack started making the most obnoxious noise Derek had the misfortune of hearing. After that, it didn’t take long for Derek to figure out that Stiles must have left his phone too and that the noise was the sound of it ringing.

In typical Stiles fashion, the ringtone was an upbeat pop song, something Derek could only pinpoint as being sung by some girl band. And whilst the volume was probably muffled by the material of the backpack by human standards, with Derek's superior werewolf hearing it sounded just as loud as it would be if the phone was pressed directly against his ear.

Finally, after what seemed like an age of useless repetition of high pitched voices singing about having the power, the phone fell silent. Blowing out a breath of relief Derek turned back to reading his book, thankful that the headache-inducing noise had stopped so he could concentrate back on the story unfolding. 

Blessed silence reigned once again and Derek was able to become consumed by the words written on the pages in front of him, his mind relaxing as it delved back into the heroine's narrative.

Then, the phone started ringing again.

Pressing his lips together in frustration Derek huffed heavily through his nostrils, battling internally with himself over getting up and just answering the damn thing so he could finally have some peace. He also briefly considered shoving the backpack into a kitchen cupboard but quickly dismissed that idea when realizing he would have to try and explain to Stiles why he’d shoved his possessions underneath the sink. The chorus hit and Derek finally gave in, lifting himself up of the chair and approaching the backpack in quick determined strides. 

Unzipping the main zip Derek reached in and pulled out the singing device glaring angrily at the name flashing on the screen.

Nick

Like a viper ready to strike jealousy reared its ugly head, Derek’s gut twisting into angry knots as his hand tightened subconsciously around the phone. Deep down, Derek knew it was childish to feel hatred for a person he’d never met, especially since the hatred was solely caused by the fact that the person had something he wanted so desperately. 

Wolf growling possessively beneath the surface of his mind, the urge to answer the phone evolved from a simple need for silence to something much more. Derek wasn’t an idiot, he knew how it would look to the other man if he answered Stiles’ phone without the teen being present. 

And yet.. His finger still slid across the screen to accept the call. 

“Hello love, how have you been today?”

Biting the inside of his cheek at the admittedly rather sexy British accent which flowed through the phone, Derek cleared his throat and spoke. “Sorry, Stiles isn’t here at the moment. He should be here soon though, he just forgot his backpack on my sofa”. Silence rang out from the other end and Derek fleetingly entertained the possibility that maybe, just maybe, answering Stiles’ phone in a fit of pure immature possessiveness might not have been the best idea. 

“Oh, thank you Mr… sorry I didn’t seem to catch your name?” the tone had changed, still smooth and distinctly British but now with something sinister bubbling underneath. 

“Hale, Derek Hale”

“Forgive me, but you sound very gruff for a high school student, Derek”

Derek’s eyes narrowed, his lips and eyebrows pulling down into his signature scowl as he snapped disdainfully “and you sound pretty old to be calling a teenager love”. 

A chilling laugh echoed in reply and Derek swore he felt the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end, his wolf prowling closer to the surface in response to the perceived threat. He was beginning to get a really bad feeling about this guy, and he didn’t think it had anything to do with jealousy anymore.

“You’re funny, I can see how Stiles must enjoy your company” Nick cooed patronizingly at the Alpha and Derek made the decision there and then that he didn’t like Stiles’ new boyfriend. Not, one, bit.

“And yet, I can’t seem to figure out why Stiles would enjoy yours,” Derek remarked snidely through partly gritted teeth, glaring at the thin air in front of him as if it were the insufferable man himself. “Well, it’s a good thing your opinion doesn’t matter now, does it? And as much as I’ve loved this little chat with you, I have business to attend to. Goodbye Derek, do take care” Derek could practically hear the smirk in the other man’s voice and it made his eyes flash red. 

“Bye”

Pulling the phone away from his ear the Alpha resisted the urge to throw the phone across the room, mostly because it wasn’t his phone in the first place and he doubted Stiles would appreciate any excuse he could come up with as to why the phone was broken into a thousand pieces.

“Dude, what are you doing on my phone?”


	24. chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a split moment of sheer possessive stupidity Derek manages to push Stiles further into Nick's arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *SCREAMING* THIS CHAPTER WAS QUITE HARD CAUSE I'M ASEXUAL AND I COULDN'T WRITE ALL THE GROSS SEXY-TIME STUFF! I'M SORRY! :P but erm, use your imagination? Also, the Little Mix reference is a subtle nod towards Dylan O'Brien who has said in an interview how much he loves their music :P

Nick’s POV

 

Hanging up Nick held the phone out in front of his eyes, head tilted and lips pulled into a dangerous scowl as he glared darkly at the device. Slowly he began to clench his fingers tighter and tighter around the device, watching with an unsettling level of intensity as smoke began to curl from between his tense digits.

The air simmered, and with a sudden burst of heat bright orange flames sprang to life, swallowing Nick’s hand in a violent blaze. Teeth gritted in anger Nick inhaled deeply, savoring the sharp burning smell of fire as his phone melted itself into a smoldering mess in his grip, vividly imagining the device as the body of the man who answered Stiles’ phone.

Whoever this Derek Hale person was, they presented a threat to his plan for Stiles, and Nick didn’t go to all of the painstaking lengths he did to make sure the boy was isolated from his friends and even his father, just for some idiot to come along and ruin it! To think, all those nights slipping his way into Stiles’ room through the flower and planting seeds of anger and darkness in the teen's mind could be wasted! 

No, he refused it.

Staring at the wild hungry flames eclipsing his clenched fist Nick started to smirk, the blood moon was only three nights away, all Nick had to do was make sure Stiles didn’t become suspicious of him until then, that ruled out getting rid of Derek… but that didn’t mean he couldn’t play a little dirty. 

But first, he needed to find out all he could about Derek Hale and luckily enough, he had just the person in mind for the job.

 

~#~#~#~#~ Stiles’ POV

 

Stiles crossed his arms, hip jutted out to the side with his foot tapping impatiently on the floor as Derek turned sheepishly to face him, Stiles’ phone still clutched in his hand. Raising an unimpressed brow at Derek’s guilty silence Stiles spoke up again.

“Why were you on my phone, Derek?”

Like a fish out of water, Derek opened his mouth and closed it multiple times before finally mumbling out an excuse “your ringtone was annoying me”. 

Holding up a finger Stiles replied, in an outraged tone “okay, FIRST of all, Little Mix is never annoying, check your privilege. Second of all, that is still no reason for you to go into MY backpack and answer MY phone dude! That’s like a major invasion of privacy. Or do werewolves not understand that perfectly simple concept?!”.

Derek just blinked at him and Stiles threw his hands into the air “you know what, fuck it. Just give me my damn phone back”. It was a little amusing, to say the least, to watch Derek slink across the room towards Stiles like a misbehaved puppy. Snorting internally at the comparison Stiles held out his hand, his fingers wiggling impatiently.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to invade your privacy… or...insult your ringtone choices” Derek cleared his throat awkwardly, handing over the device with an apologetic frown. 

Rolling his eyes at the werewolf’s truthfully very poor attempt to look contrite, Stiles unlocked the device and viewed the call history to see who rang, almost groaning out loud when it showed Nick’s name. 

Derek had talked to his boyfriend.

Great.

Tucking his phone into his jean pocket safely Stiles rubbed his forehead demanding in an almost weary tone “what did you say?”. Eyebrows jumping upwards in confusion Derek adjusted his stance so his arms were crossed defensively across his chest “what do you mean?”. 

“To Nick, Derek! What did you say to Nick? You know, the guy on the other end of MY phone which you answered without MY permission?” Stiles snapped frustration climbing to an all-time high. 

Derek’s face turned dark at the mention of Nick’s name and Stiles honed onto the Alpha’s reaction straight away, noting the way the skin of his neck flushed a deep red as he grunted in obvious displeasure “nothing, I told him you weren’t here and then we said bye”. Stiles definitely didn’t have to be a werewolf to know that Derek was lying to him straight through his dumb little bunny teeth. 

“That’s a lie and you fucking know it!” 

Snarling Derek threw his hands out in a gesture of surrender “fine! He made a comment about me sounding a bit rough for a high schooler and I said he sounded too old to be calling a teenager love”. 

“Oh MY GOD!” Stiles raged storming past Derek towards the sofa and grabbing his backpack before spinning around to face the Alpha, his finger stabbing accusingly in the other's direction. “You! YOU! Are literally the last person on this entire FUCKING PLANET who gets to say anything about Nick being older than me. I mean did you forget all about Kate? Or how about Ms. Blake! She had to be at least 30 but that didn’t seem to stop you, did it?”. It was a low blow, bringing both of those women into the conversation when he knew that it would only hurt Derek, but Stiles was seeing red and he really didn’t care if the werewolf’s feelings got a little hurt. 

Shaking his head Derek laughed harshly “yeah, well, maybe I thought you might learn from my mistakes and stick with someone your own damn age instead of crushing on me like some pathetic little kid!”. 

Stiles flinched back as if physically struck by the words, a tidal wave of humiliation crashing down around him as his stomach clenched painfully with the heavy realization that Derek knew about his feelings and probably laughed about it like an asshole. Tears of shame threatening to overspill Stiles blinked repeatedly as his bottom lip trembled, his throat constricting making his words choke out of his mouth “screw you, Derek”. Eyes stubbornly downcast to prevent giving Derek the sick satisfaction of seeing him upset, Stiles shouldered his way past the Alpha, knocking the bigger man to the side as he raced towards the door, desperate to escape the room that was starting to feel entirely too small.

“Wait! Stiles!! I didn’t-”

Ignoring Derek’s feeble attempts to get him to stop, Stiles rushed out of the loft doors never once looking back. 

 

\---time skip---

 

Stiles knocked rapidly on the door in front of him, his face flushed red with freshly shed tears and nose snuffling as he stood in the hallway to Nick’s apartment. Stepping back Stiles rubbed his sleeve angrily across his face to try and wipe away any trace of the aching sadness which lingered from his fight with Derek. 

After what seemed like an eternity the door finally opened revealing a shirtless Nick, his blonde hair laying damp and curled around his face. If it was any other day Stiles was sure his brain would have short-circuited at the sight, but not today. 

“Stiles! What are yo-” cutting himself off Nick frowned, taking in the no doubt pitiful sight of Stiles standing in his apartment hallway red-eyed and shoulders slumped. “You’ve been crying..” Nick spoke softly, letting go of his hold on the door handle to reach forward and pull Stiles through the threshold and into his arms. Instinctively, Stiles wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, face burying itself into the comforting warmth between Nick’s collarbone and jaw. 

Holding back a whimper, Stiles heaved in a deep breath as Nick started to rub his hand up and down his back in a soothing motion whilst mumbling reassuringly “It’s okay love, I’m here. I’m here now”. 

Lifting his head up Stiles stared at Nick in silence, his wide honey brown eyes searching the older man’s face for something sinister hidden behind the concern, an ulterior motive to his kindness but found nothing. Warmth filled Stiles’ chest, his heart fluttering at the knowledge that even if Derek thought he was a joke, and his dad hated his boyfriend whilst his so-called friends only cared when it was convenient, he still had Nick.

“Nick…” Stiles whispered the other man’s name breathlessly, his hands moving from their position wrapped tightly around Nick’s body, to the front of his chest, fingers taking their time to dance lightly across the skin, teasing. Closing his eyes Nick pressed his forehead against Stiles’, visibly holding himself back from responding to the teen’s touch “you're upset Stiles, we shouldn't do this now” he said reluctantly. Biting his lip Stiles pressed their bodies closer together, his pupils blown wide “please Nick … I want....I need you to touch me”. 

I need to feel loved, Stiles thought to himself.

Luckily for Stiles, the sound of him begging was all it took for his boyfriend to change his mind. Nick surged forward through those last remaining centimeters between them and captured Stiles’ lips in hungry passion, his tongue slipping past the teen's lips to explore the warm wet expanse of Stiles’ mouth. Kissing back with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, Stiles moved one hand down to the stretch of skin below Nick’s belly button, his nails scraping lightly through the short curled wisps of hair making up the happy trail all the way down to the waistband of Nick’s grey sweatpants. 

Nick pulled away before Stiles could dip his fingers into the hem, leaving Stiles gasping for breath with lips bruised pink and shining “you're very eager sweetheart, though it's not entirely fair since I'm already half dressed” he pointed out with a slight teasing pout. Grinning Stiles paused his fumbling with Nick’s pants to unzip his hoodie and tear off his t-shirt. Far too consumed in the moment and the rush of lust pumping through his veins like opium, Stiles threw his clothes to the side “there, all even now”. 

Chuckling Nick grabbed Stiles by the wrist and tugged the teen towards the master bedroom “if we're doing this, we're going to do it right. Not on the couch like filthy animals”. Snorting in amusement at Nick, Stiles smirked “I don't know. That couch is pretty comfy, I certainly wouldn't mind”. Nick paused in his strides considering the risque suggestion briefly, clearly tempted by it, before shaking his head “maybe next time love, but our first should be on a bed”.

Swallowing slightly Stiles eyed the deep red silken sheets as Nick steered him into the bedroom, his stomach clenching nervously. Embarrassing thoughts started to race through his mind, would Nick notice that he was Stiles’ first? What if Stiles was bad at it? What if he cried!? Jesus, he’d only ever had porn as a reference and his own hand isn’t exactly what he would call extensive experience. He wanted it, God, he wanted Nick! But would Nick still want him if he shows himself up to be a complete virgin?

As if sensing Stiles’ hesitance Nick smiled, reassuringly squeezing the teen’s hand “you can still say no, I won't be mad. We can watch a movie instead”. Chewing his bottom lip Stiles pushed his insecurities aside and shook his head before dragging Nick in for another heated kiss. Taking this as an indication that Stiles was comfortable enough to continue, Nick gently spun Stiles around by the hips, pushing the teen backwards until the back of his legs hit the mattress edge. Stiles fell backwards against the luxuriously smooth bed sheet, his startled gasp swallowed greedily by Nick's tongue. Pulling away Nick dragged his nose down the slender mole dotted skin of Stiles’ neck, mumbling sweet nothings into the flesh and dragging his tongue along the surface whilst Stiles arched his back, one hand curling into Nick’s hair the other twisting the sheets. 

“You and me, love, forever”


	25. chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek wallows like an idiot and gets an unexpected visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okaaaayy SO I will hold my hands up and say this chapter did not go at all like I planned, but I still like it and it moved the plot along so I decided to keep it and publish it as the 25th chapter :D I promise confrontations and drama in the next one!

Nick’s POV

 

Humming contently Nick ran his fingers down the soft slope of Stiles’ arm, the teen mumbling in his sleep before snuggling deeper into Nick’s chest, head tucked perfectly into the space underneath the Warlock’s chin. The teen was tired, and honestly Nick couldn’t blame him, he had pulled out all the tricks he’d learned over the years to keep Stiles moaning and writhing underneath his touch. Every little gasp and shudder he pulled from those lips, even the stinging pleasure of Stiles’ nails clawing deep lines down the lean muscles of Nick’s back was a victory. A victory made even sweeter with the knowledge that he was Stiles’ first.

Glancing at the digital clock on his bedside table Nick decided to get up and shower quickly before starting on making Stiles a late dinner, the time was pushing close to 8 pm and Nick had no doubt that his boy would be hungry once he woke up from his post-coital nap. 

Grabbing a fresh pair of underwear and pants Nick headed into the bathroom grinning like a cat who caught the canary. 

~#~#~#~#~ Derek’s POV

 

He was wallowing. 

Wallowing in self-pity with a bottle of specially laced bourbon in hand and his face smushed into the pillows of his sofa where nobody could see him cry. Oh god, Laura was probably laughing at him now from whatever afterlife she was in, he could hear her in his head already with her annoying ‘I’m right and you fucked up’ tone of voice and an insult that made no sense like;

“Derek Stuart Hale, you absolute, no good emotionally stunted cabbage patch kid!”

Oh, wow, that was actually really realistic. Lifting his head Derek squinted in confusion at the blurry figure lounging on his wall like an old friend. “Laurs?” the Alpha slurred blinking a few times to make the picture in front of his eyes stop swimming, it worked, at least a little bit, familiar green eyes and black hair solidifying with a snap. 

“Holy shit I’m drunk” Derek mumbled glancing down at the bottle still clutched between his fingers accusingly, he should have known better than to trust anything Peter bought him it was probably poisoned.

“Yeah, you’re drunk and you fucked up big time baby bro” 

Whining low in his throat Derek buried his face back into the safe suffocating confines of the sofa, desperate to escape the judgment. “Go away, Laura”. 

A loud snort followed his words accompanied by a snappy retort “yeah, I would like to trust me because seeing you wallow like a sad little 14-year-old girl who got her heart broken by Justin Bieber is giving me ghost-hives. But I can’t, because the Nemeton dragged my ass all the way back from the afterlife to give you a good old bitch slap”. 

It took a while for the words to sink into Derek’s brain, like a solid mass trying to move through thick treacle, but it happened and Derek dragged himself up into sitting position to scowl at the apparition “why would the Nemeton bring you back?”. Rolling her eyes Laura pushed herself forward and cocked her eyebrow “well believe it or not it isn’t because you’re running your love life like a bad romantic comedy with a low budget and a shitty script”. 

Groaning Derek hit his head against the back of the sofa “nice to know being dead hasn’t stopped you from being a total bitch”. 

“Nice to see me being dead hasn’t stopped you from being a total nerd, now get up go shower and have some coffee, I need you sober to talk and I have a limited time frame before I’m tugged back” Laura clapped her hands in a chop-chop motion. Derek groaned again, this time louder before deciding it was probably best to listen to his sister, even if she did turn out to be an alcohol-induced hallucination, she was right about him needing to sober up. 

He needed to call Stiles and apologize. Again. 

\---time skip---

To say Derek was surprised to see the apparition of his dead older sister still hanging about after his shower was an understatement. Gripping the wrought metal staircase which lead up towards the second level of the loft, Derek blew out a long shuddering breath as he spotted Laura perched on the kitchen counter her legs swinging back and forth, phasing in and out of the cupboards like it was nothing.

“I was really really hoping you wouldn’t still be here when I got back” the Alpha admitted somewhat shamefully as his sister just grinned. “Damn Derek, what took you so long? Were you cutting each individual chest hair with a pair of nail scissors?”. Biting his tongue Derek descended the stairs keeping a firm and weary eye on his sister as he approached. Maintaining a cautious distance between himself and the specter Derek began to make himself a strong cup of black coffee, the sound of the machine bubbling filling in the silence.

After pouring himself out a large mug Derek walked back into the living room area and slumped back down onto the sofa. Lifting the rim of the cup to his lips he took a large swig, ignoring the sharp pain as the boiling liquid burnt his mouth and throat raw for a few seconds before his healing started to kick in. Pressing a palm to his forehead Derek glanced at his sister through the corner of his eye and grunted rudely.

“Alright, so why did the Nemeton bring you back to talk to me?” 

Jumping down from the counter with a huff Laura made her way towards one of the armchairs closest to where Derek sat. “Simple, because it's scared,” she said shrugging nonchalantly as she sat down. Eyebrows springing upwards in disbelief Derek curled his lip “an ancient magical tree is scared?”. 

Rolling her eyes Laura crossed her arms “when you put it like that it sounds dumb Der-bear, but it's the truth. Although I wouldn't exactly say the tree itself is scared because the tree is just a physical representation of magic itself”. 

“So magic is scared?” Derek amended with the same amount of skepticism in his tone and facial expression causing Laura to glare at him in exasperation. “Magic is all about balance Derek, and in order to prevent anything from tipping the scales too far in one direction, there are measured in place. Unfortunately for you, the best thing the Nemeton could come up with was to force-project my ass like some Obi-wan rip-off to your twunk Luke Skywalker”. 

Blinking furiously Derek chugged more of his coffee, his brain still nowhere ready on any level to deal with his sister's weird language whilst he was still trying to sober himself up. 

“Please stop talking like this, you’re giving me a headache” 

Folding her legs up onto the chair buddha style Laura ignored Derek’s petulant moaning and continued talking. “You have a headache cause you chugged the werewolf equivalent of rubbing alcohol now quit whining like a baby and let me warn you of your fate like a good ghost of Christmas future. And I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully; Something big is going to go down on Saturday night and you and your pack need to stop it, because if you don’t… then you’re all going to lose Stiles, and a lot of innocent people are going to die”.

Lurching upwards at the mention of Stiles, Derek just avoided spilling the coffee all over himself as he demanded answers from the now somber looking ghost. “Is this to do with the Warlock? It is, isn’t it?? Fuck! I told Deaton! I told him that Stiles should know he was in danger! What’s going to happen on Saturday? Laura, you need to tell me everything you know, right now!”. 

Shrugging helplessly Laura frowned “I’m sorry Derek, that’s all I know” looking down she sighed softly as her body started to flicker like an out of tune television. “I’ve already been here too long…”. Throwing his coffee to the side carelessly Derek propelled himself off of the sofa, falling onto his knees in front of the armchair Laura sat in as his hands swiped uselessly through his sister's translucent body, desperately trying to cling onto the phantom which continued to fade more and more before his eyes. 

“Laura! Laura stay please!”

Laura smiled sadly “I’m proud of you Der-bear. We all are, please remember that”.

Shoulders slumped in defeat Derek watched as his big sister flickered out of existence once more, tears cascading down his cheeks and left only with the stench of strong coffee permeating the air from the shattered remains of his cup scattered across the hardwood floor.


	26. chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is confronted with his greatest fear and more words are said which can't be easily taken back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A LONG CHAPTER FILLED WITH ANGST!!! Don't kill me please, I know it looks bad but it literally has to get like bottom of the barrel worse before things start to get better! Also, I really want to make this into a series so a sequel will definitely go up and not leave any Sterek fan (hopefully) feeling too jaded that this fic was mostly Stiles/oc

Stiles’ POV

 

Blinking awake Stiles stretched out like languidly, his tight muscles unloosening a fraction and bones cracking satisfyingly as he let out a long sigh. Lying there peacefully in a bed which smelled completely of Nick, Stiles could almost fall right back to sleep. 

Almost. 

Peeking over the side of the bed Stiles eyed the crumpled pile of his jeans on the floor, specifically the back pocket which was vibrating angrily. Wrapping the sheet around his shoulders Stiles slid off the bed with a roll of his eyes and padded over to the discarded item of clothing, reaching down and plucking his phone with an angry twist of his lips.

Derek’s name flashed across the screen for the incoming call and Stiles felt a pang of shame shoot through his stomach like a hot iron poker. God, to think Stiles actually believed for one second that he could be friends with that arrogant controlling Alpha. All that time he pretended to care on the phone during the panic attack, in the cafe sharing memories about Stiles’ own mother and then in the loft telling tales about his family. He was probably laughing at Stiles right now, thinking about how pathetic and weak the teen was for even thinking he had a chance with the great Alpha Derek Hale. 

Licking his lips Stiles screwed up his face to try and stop himself from crying at the hurtful thoughts that raced through his mind. 

“Stiles! I'm making omelets! They'll be ready in fifteen minutes if you want to take a shower” Nick called out breaking Stiles out of his reverie. Biting back a grin Stiles flushed as the very fresh memories of their escapades consumed his thoughts instead. Switching his phone off Stiles picked up his underwear and jeans before turning on his heel and heading towards the on-suite. 

Standing underneath the hot spray coming from the shower head Stiles groaned softly as the water massaged his aching muscles. It was a nice sort of ache, the type that you get after a good workout, but an ache nonetheless. Smiling to himself Stiles ran his fingers fondly over the various bruises and bite marks littering his neck, torso, and thighs remembering fondly each press. Shaking his head Stiles finished washing and stepped out of the shower, grabbing one of the large fluffy white towels folded neatly on the rack. After gently drying his hair with the towel Stiles quickly moved onto his body. 

Stepping out of the bathroom Stiles blushed at the sight of Nick leaning casually against the bedrooms door frame with a lazy smirk. “I was worried I'd have to come in there and pull you out sweetheart. Although I don't think I could have held myself back seeing you all steamy and wet”. Lips twitched a little in amusement Stiles remained quiet, his words drying up in his throat when he tried to think of something equally as cool and suave to say back when all his brain was screaming was;

SEX! YOU HAD SEXY-TIMES WITH THIS GUY! SEX! HE TOUCHED YOUR GENITALS AND YOU TOUCHED HIS! THERE WAS MUTUAL TOUCHING OF THE GENITALS!! WHAT IF YOU WERE BAD? HOLY SHIT 

Sometime during Stiles’ internal screaming Nick must have pushed himself off the door frame approaching Stiles with a soft look. Reaching out the older man grasped Stiles’ chin gently with his forefinger and thumb, his blonde hair falling to the side as he tilted his head. “You're not regretting it are you?” He queried gently. Vehemently shaking his head Stiles sucked on his bottom lip self consciously “no, no! It was great! It was really amazing actually, and it just made me kind of remember how much more experienced you are, you know? Like I was a complete and utter virgin and you probably noticed because I was all awkward and shit and you were amazing”. Lowering his eyes Stiles admitted softly “I guess I'm just scared you'll get tired of how young and inexperienced I am about stuff and move onto someone your own age, someone who can give you what you want and not have to worry about high school and interfering parents with shotguns”. 

Nick cooed squeezing Stiles’ chin gently with his fingers to get the teen to look him in the eye again, a warm smile gracing his lips. “You did amazing Stiles, there's no need to feel self-conscious because I'm older and more experienced in the bedroom. I enjoyed myself and so did you, that's what matters, not your age or whether or not you've done it before”. 

At the sincere words flowing out of Nick's mouth, Stiles slowly started to brighten up, a full-blown grin settling on his face. Leaning forward Nick pressed a sweet kiss to Stiles’ forehead, dropping his grip on the boy's chin to thread his fingers with younger man's. 

“Now, let's go eat those omelets before they get cold”. 

 

\--- time skip ---

 

Kicking his shoes off his feet Stiles shut the door behind him and shouted out “HEY DAD, I’M HOME!! SORRY I’M LATE, I LOST TRACK OF TIME WITH SCOTT!!”. That was a lie, but Stiles didn’t think his dad would appreciate hearing his son had spent the afternoon in bed with his older boyfriend on a school night.

Popping his head into the living room Stiles spotted his dad sitting on the sofa watching a football game with intensity and smiled. No matter what happened in their life there was always one constant, his dad’s undying love of all things sports. It was partly because of that love of sports which made Stiles join the lacrosse in the first place, and whilst Stiles himself didn’t have a particular interest in any sport other than baseball he wanted his dad to be proud of him. Also, Scott needed a wingman to warm the bench with him before the bite turned him into a field star. 

Zipping up his hoodie Stiles made sure to hide any evidence of the now dark purple hickey’s which decorate his neck before stepping into the living room and heading for the old armchair, tucking his legs underneath him. “How was work today dad?” Stiles questioned, propping his chin up on his left fist as he stared at his father who winced as a player got tackled before they crossed the end zone. 

“Slow, it’s been quiet since the whole fiasco with the sacrifices so whatever you and that Hale pack are doing to keep the crazies away seems to be working” his dad grunted leaning back against the sofa, his eyes never moving from the screen as he spoke. Clearing his throat at the mention of the pack Stiles lowered his eyes to his lap, his right fingers pulling nervously at the toggle on his hoodie “actually… I- I’ve decided not to get involved with pack stuff anymore”. 

His dad frowned, his eyes finally drawing away from the screen to stare at Stiles with open concern. Switching the tv on mute his dad turned his body to face Stiles, crossing one leg over his knee and clutching his ankle with his hand “since when?” he questioned brows furrowed in confusion. Lifting one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug Stiles licked his lips “I dunno… for over a month now I guess? It was getting in the way of school work and stuff and you didn’t need to worry about me being in danger from the supernatural as well as being a Sheriff so I just… decided to stop mixing myself up with that”.

Nodding at his words his dad seemed to absorb the information for a few beats of silence before speaking up “and what does Scott think about that?”. Popping the hoodie toggle into his mouth and chewing on the end Stiles shrugged again “he was fine about it, I’m not a werewolf dad, or a banshee, or a hunter. I don’t belong in a pack, especially not the Hale pack. I’m just skinny, defenseless Stiles”.

Except you’re lying to him aren’t you? You’re not defenseless, you’re a Spark

Ignoring the voice in his head which reminded him of the uncontrolled power that currently swam through his veins like liquid poison, ruining any of his hopes of being normal and human, Stiles kept his mouth firmly shut. 

“You’re not defenseless, son” his dad argued and for a split second Stiles panicked that the older man had figured him out, had somehow recognized that he wasn’t human anymore before it dawned on him that his dad was probably just trying to make him feel better about himself. 

Smiling Stiles lifted up from the armchair and patted his dad on the shoulder “thanks Dad, but it's getting late so I'm going to head to bed. Goodnight”. 

“Night Stiles” 

~#~#~#~#~ John's POV 

Watching his son exit the room with weary gaze John couldn't help but feel a sinking sensation in his stomach. The same sinking sensation he got whenever his teenage son lied to him.

Since when did Stiles care so much about school work and being in danger that he dropped out of things?? Especially things that concerned the supernatural. Hell, John remembers very clearly trying talk Stiles out of staying involved with pack stuff after the Darach incident, but the way Stiles looked at him he might just as well have suggested scraping Roscoe! The teen even went on a ten-minute tirade about friendship, loyalty, and Scott needing him. 

And now, just like that, he doesn't want to be a part of it anymore?

That didn't sound like his son. 

Suspicion creeping over him John whipped out his phone and dialed Melissa, aware that she would be home after a rare day shift at the hospital. 

“Hey John” 

“Hey Mel, quick question. You wouldn't happen to know whether or not Stiles spent the afternoon at yours with Scott would you?” John questioned his eyes drawn upwards to where he could hear Stiles moving about in his room. 

The reply he got from Melissa only served to confirm his suspicions and worry him even more. 

“Sorry John, Scott's been here with Isaac all night doing homework. Actually, now that I think about it. I haven't seen Stiles here for over a month now, which is pretty strange since he and Scotty are usually joined at the hip. Especially with all the supernatural stuff that's going on the past two years. I can ask Scott about it if you want?”

“No, no, it's okay. I must have been mistaken, you know how Stiles is, he talks so fast sometimes it's hard to keep up”. Melissa laughed in agreement. 

“Alright then. Well goodnight John” 

“Goodnight Mel” 

Hanging up the phone John let out a deep sigh, he knew exactly who Stiles was with tonight. 

Climbing up the stairs John considered all the ways how the upcoming conversation with his son could end, and given how badly Stiles had reacted when John had expressed his opinion on Nick previously, the chances of this talk not ending in a screaming match was zero to none. 

Sucking in a big breath John twisted the doorknob and opened the door prepared to sit Stiles down and have a good hard talk. All words died on his tongue at the sight of his son’s bare back littered with fresh finger-shaped bruises and bite marks. 

“Well I guess that answers my question about where you really were tonight”

Yelping in shock Stiles spun around, his cotton pj t-shirt clutched tightly in his hand as he stared guiltily at John who stood frozen in the doorway, his fingers tightening around the doorknob with barely concealed rage. 

“Jesus Christ dad! Ever heard of knocking!!” Stiles snapped whilst hastily pulling the fabric over his head to hide his marked skin. 

Letting go of the doorknob John crossed his arms and scowled “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t see Nick on weekdays if I let you spend the weekend at his”. Huffing Stiles ruffled his hair in annoyance and rolled his eyes “it was literally one afternoon dad, chill”. Shaking his head John stood his ground under the dismissive attitude of his son “oh really? Just one afternoon? Where have you been all those other times you used being at Scott’s as an excuse? Because according to Melissa you haven’t been over there in over a month!”. 

The face Stiles pulled in response was pure animosity and John swore the air of the room dropped ten degrees. 

“Oh really? You’re pulling fucking receipts on me now dad? You think that just because we have a few family dinners together and you’re not spending so much time at the station that things are suddenly fixed? Well, you’re wrong! And if you really want to know what I was doing tonight, I was getting fucked by Nick, yeah that’s right! Your precious son lost his V card and he begged for it!!” Stiles laughed harshly, holding his arms out at his sides in a ‘what are you going to do about it gesture’.

John saw red. Hearing his son talk so crudely about himself made him feel sick to his stomach. “You’re lucky I don’t get that creep arrested Stiles! You’re fucking seventeen!! It’s statutory rape for God sake!!! You may think you’re an adult but as long as you’re under eighteen and living under MY roof you abide by MY RULES! And I’ve had enough!! You’re banned from seeing Nick and you’re grounded until further notice. The only time you leave this house is to go to school do you understand me? And if I see so much as a GLIMPSE of that sick bastard hanging around you, this house or the school I’m pulling him into the station and charging him”. Chest heaving with rage John waited for Stiles to confirm that he understood the terms but was met with stony silence.

 

~#~#~#~#~ Stiles’ POV

Shoulders shaking Stiles clenched his fists as a familiar tingling sensation began to gather in his palms with every thundering thump of his heart in his chest. The room had gotten significantly colder throughout his heated exchange with his father, until finally, by the end of it his dad’s breath was ghosting out of his lips like dragon smoke. 

Feeling the urge to scream building up in his throat Stiles instinctively pushed his arms outwards, the deep searing desire to get his dad as far away from him as possible driving his actions. 

His wish was granted, his dad flying backwards into the hallway as if propelled by some unseen force, his body crashing into the wall the same time Stiles’ bedroom slammed itself shut. Blinded by an emotion he couldn’t describe Stiles raced around his room, grabbing his duffel bag from underneath the bed and shoving everything into it with force. 

His dad started banging on the door frantically, the sound of his fist causing the wood to shudder in its frame piercing through Stiles like nails on a chalkboard. 

“Stiles!! STILES OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR RIGHT NOW!!”

Clutching his chest with a fist Stiles fought back the panic attack causing his chest to constrict painfully with each gasping breath. Blinking away the tears clouding his vision Stiles slipped on his trainers, stubbornly blocking out the sound of his dad’s voice screaming at him from the other side of the door. With one harsh tug Stiles zipped the bag closed before throwing the thick strap over his shoulder and approaching his window with steady determined strides.

Yanking open the window Stiles maneuvered his body through the gap onto the sloped bit of roof underneath, his feet slipping slightly on the smooth tiles. Throwing the duffel onto the grass below Stiles shimmied his way down the side of the house expertly, having plenty of experience sneaking out many times before. 

Distantly Stiles heard his door splinter and his dad barrel himself into his room so he sped up, grabbing his duffel and taking off down the street.


	27. chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has snapped, his son is in danger and he isn't pulling punches to save anybody's feelings.

John’s POV

 

Lying on the old carpeted floor of the landing John stared in complete confusion at the closed door of his son’s bedroom. The shock of how he ended up on the floor in the first place overwhelming the dull ache spreading across shoulders from where his back connected violently with the wall. Grunting John propped himself up on his forearms and worked on getting himself back to his feet.

Banging one fist against the door John rattled the doorknob with the other, trying to get through to his son who was most likely working himself into a frenzy.

“Stiles!! STILES OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR RIGHT NOW!!”

He was confused and he was angry and he just wanted some damn answers as to why his teenage son was behaving so irrationally lately and how he performed some freak bout of what John was pretty sure was actually fucking magic. 

“STILES PLEASE!! YOU’RE SCARING ME! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH YOU?!”

Pounding on the door harder John gave a frustrated huff as he received no reply and the door remained locked. Taking a step back John looked at the door with furrowed brows and made the decision there and then that he needed to kick down the door. Giving himself enough space he dug the heel of his non-dominant foot into the carpet to center his mass before kicking out with the other, driving the heel of that foot into the space just below the keyhole. 

The wood splintered and buckled.

Charging forward John looked around the empty room and the open window with a cold feeling of dread. “Shit, Stiles” the older man cursed underneath his breath before racing out of the room and down the stairs grabbing his car keys from the bowl by the door. 

 

~#~#~#~#~ Stiles’ POV

 

Holding his breath Stiles watched with anticipation as his dad’s cruiser sped past his hiding spot behind old Mrs. Miller’s garden hedge. After a few seconds had passed Stiles reemerged wearing a different colored hoodie and his gym sneakers, to ensure that he wouldn’t be noticed if his dad eventually sends out an amber alert once realizing he couldn’t find Stiles himself. 

Cutting his way through the neighborhood using the backyards Stiles stuck to the shadows, knowing exactly what to do to blend in and not draw attention to himself. Walking was a slower route to the busses leading out of town but Stiles couldn’t have risked taking Roscoe, his dad could have easily alerted his deputies to watch out for it. 

No, walking was his best bet, at least until he got to the bus station. 

So what would usually be a ten-minute drive turned into a forty minute walk interspersed randomly with ducking and weaving and hiding behind various things whenever Stiles spotted a cruiser. Stiles didn’t stop looking over his shoulder until he had boarded the bus with his hood up, paid with cash and headed straight to the back. 

Pulling out his phone Stiles stared at the screen, 25 missed calls from his dad and numerous text messages, begging him to go home.

 

Popps

Stiles, I’m sorry. Come home, please. 

You’re scaring me, I don’t know what’s been going on with you and I’m worried. 

Please, I can’t lose you too Mischief. 

We can talk, I won’t shout anymore. 

Whatever it is that's wrong, I can help you, just let me help you.

 

Guilt eating away at his soul like a swarm of angry locusts Stiles pressed his fist to his mouth to stop himself from letting out a guttural yell of frustration, and threw his head back harshly against the headrest of the seat, closing his eyes briefly to try and gather his thoughts. 

How could he even begin to explain to his dad that he didn’t know why he felt the way he did? He had talked to Deaton, he had floated those fucking feathers and he was still left feeling so unstable and raw that every little thing was like sandpaper being scrubbed against his emotions. 

It was exhausting and sure, the nightmares were getting better, less frequent and gruesome but his waking moments were becoming unbearable. Spending his time walking around with his skin pulled far too tight over bones that ached something visceral, and lungs that filled with glass so every breath felt like he was being sliced up from the inside. 

He feels wrong. And the only thing that feels right, the only thing that seems to soothe the war drums echoing almost 24/7 in his mind, is Nick. When Nick touched him he could breathe again. 

He just wanted to breathe. 

Why didn't his dad understand that? 

Why didn't Derek? 

His phone vibrated with another text alert and Stiles couldn't bring himself to look at the screen anymore so he packed the phone back away and settled in for a long bus journey back to Nick's. 

 

~#~#~#~#~ John’s POV

 

“John! JOHN!! You need to calm down right now and tell me exactly what happened, I can’t help you when you’re like this!” Melissa instructed firmly as John paced frantically around her kitchen, his phone clutched desperately in his hand. The McCall house was his first stop after driving around and searching for his son for over half an hour, a small part of him still hopeful that Stiles would seek the comfort of his childhood best friend and not run straight to Nick. 

“I can’t calm down Mel! There’s something serious going on with Stiles and I don’t know exactly how yet, but it definitely has something to do with this Nick guy” John gestured angrily at the nurse who stood, arms crossed, and all too calmly for John’s liking. 

“...Mr. Stilinski?”

Tearing his gaze away from Melissa, John stared at the anxiously shifting teen frozen in the doorway, unsure as to whether or not he should go further. “Scott! I thought I told you to stay upstairs!” Melissa sighed tiredly at the big brown eyes which looked close to tears.

“I know mom, I just.. I wanted to tell Mr. Stilinski I was sorry”

John laughed a loud and harsh sound which didn’t suit the older man at all. “Sorry for what Scott? For abandoning my son in his hour of need? For swanning off to play werewolf with Derek Hale? Or how about for agreeing to lie to me in the first place about this whole supernatural shit huh? Because honestly Scott, there’s a lot to apologize for and not enough time!”.

“JOHN!”

Gritting his teeth John held his hand up at Melissa “No! No! I will not be yelled at for telling the damn truth Mel, your son is selfish and pig-headed and he needs to hear it! Did you know what happened that night after the lacrosse game Mel? When Stiles went missing for hours and came back to me beaten to shit and terrified? He told me it was the other team at first, but when all this supernatural bullshit came out of the bag I asked him again and he told me, he told me exactly what happened that night. Your son, your precious fucking son let my Stiles be kidnapped by a fucking psychopath, who also coincidentally happened to be dear Allison’s grandad! And all because he thought he knew what was best! Because HE decided not to let anybody in on his little plan because HE decided that putting MY son’s life in danger was worth it in the end if Gerard Argent was stopped”. 

Scott swallowed deeply, hunching his shoulders and staring solemnly at the floor as shame seeped from every pore. 

“You didn’t even call him Scott! Or come over to our house to see how he was! The only person who even bothered to think of my son was that Martin girl, and even then she had an ulterior motive didn’t she? Cause all she wanted was to save her boyfriend who by the way had MURDERED innocent people. I just don’t understand Scott, I really don’t so explain it to me, tell me right now why my son who has sacrificed his life for his friends, has lied and broken the law and almost ruined his relationship with me just to keep your little secret safe, tell me why he deserved to be pushed aside like nothing”. 

“JOHN STOP IT!”

Turning his attention to Melissa John shook his head “And you, you call yourself a mother but you let a bunch of teenagers put themselves in near-death situations for MONTHS before even thinking of telling me the truth, me a sheriff! a goddamn law enforcement officer! I could have done so much fucking more to help if you had just told me the truth, Melissa. I can understand a bunch of teenagers wanting to keep things secret because teenagers are idiots but you’re an ADULT!! You should have known better”.

With those final words of seething anger said, John stormed his way out of the kitchen and out of the McCall house, leaving the two residents speechless with guilt. 

He needed to go to the station and report Stiles as missing.


	28. chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt for Stiles begins

Derek’s POV

 

Looking down at his phone Derek scowled in confusion as Scott’s name flashed on the screen.

“Who is it?” Deaton asked from his position half stuck in a bottom cupboard searching for the ingredients he needed for the protection spell.

“Scott, it’s probably something dumb” the Alpha grunted in displeasure, he didn’t want to be dealing with the teen's idiocy when Stiles’ life was in danger. They were already running against the clock with little to no information about what exactly was going to happen on the Saturday night, only that it needed to be stopped. 

Deaton, of course, had suspicions which he told Derek of, but they didn’t have anything solid to work with and that made protecting Stiles all the more difficult. 

Not to mention they still didn’t even know who the Warlock was!

So that left them with very limited options as to how they needed to approach the situation, Derek wasn’t a fan of limited options. 

Scott rang again and Derek huffed loudly before answering it with an impatient snap “what is it Scott?! I’m a little busy”. 

“Stiles is missing”

Heart skipping a beat Derek felt a shiver of pure dread run down his spine at the words, combing a shaky hand through his hair Derek hissed through the phone “what the hell do you mean Stiles is missing Scott??”. Absently Derek noticed Deaton had emerged from the cupboard, small vials clutched in his fist as he shot Derek a concerned look. 

“He had a big argument with the Sheriff and he ran! Mr. Stilinski tried looking for him but he couldn’t find him so I thought since you’re really great at tracking through scent you could help? I know you’re not really friends with Stiles but this is important Derek! It sounds like he’s in danger, Mr. Stilinski was really worried about this guy called Nick being involved”. 

Nick.

It was Nick.

Refraining from smacking himself in the forehead Derek pulled the phone away from his ear to address Deaton “Stiles is missing, but I have a feeling I know who the Warlock is”. Lifting a brow Deaton indicated for Derek to continue but Derek turned his attention back to the phone. 

“I’ll try and track him but I’ll need something that’s pretty heavily scented, do you have anything?”

“No, but if you go to Stiles’ house you’re bound to find something in his room. I would come with you but... Mr. Stilinski has made it clear that he wouldn’t appreciate my help right now” Scott mumbled the last part in a guilty tone. Eyes squinting Derek snorted in reply “and since when did you care whether or not someone wanted your help?”.

“Since that person is the fucking Sheriff and has a gun which he is very likely to use to shoot me with!” the teen exclaimed somewhat hysterically in reply. Biting his lip to stop himself from yelling that maybe being shot would knock some sense into him, Derek let out a slow measured breath “I’m heading over to Stiles’ house now. I’ll keep you posted if I find anything by scent tracking”. 

Hanging up Derek shoved the phone back into his leather jacket pocket and rubbed his hand across his face tiredly before speaking to Deaton “Is that everything you need for the spell? Because you’re coming over to Stiles’ house with me and you’re going to stay there, ready for when I find him”. Spinning on his heel Derek opened the surgery room door, only pausing in his determined movement when Deaton spoke up “and if you don’t find Stiles?”. 

Sparing a glance over his shoulder Derek scowled “then you’re going to explain to Sheriff Stilinski why you thought it was a good idea not to tell him, or his son about the Warlock who wants to suck the life out of him”.

 

\--- time skip ---

 

“You said you knew who the Warlock was?” Deaton queried as they walked up the path towards the Stilinski residence, a brown leather satchel filled with his supplies clutched tightly in his fist. Jogging up the steps of the wrap around porch Derek approached the front door with weary steps “it’s his boyfriend, Nick. The guy shows up in Stiles’ life and then suddenly Stiles is being influenced by a Warlock? It’s too much of a coincidence, plus Scott said the Sheriff was worried about Nick being involved with Stiles running off”. 

“And you’re sure about this? There isn’t another reason why you’re willing to point the finger towards young Mr. Stilinski’s romantic partner?” Deaton mused a hint of knowing in his voice, much to Derek’s annoyance. Raising his fist to knock on the door Derek hissed out of the corner of his mouth to the smug looking Emissary “of course not! It has to be Nick, it’s the only thing that makes sense”. 

Deaton nodded keeping quiet as they both waited to see if there was an answer. Letting out a little sigh of relief Derek twitched his eyebrows at the vet “luck seems to be on your side Alan, the Sheriff must still be out looking for Stiles”. With that said Derek twisted the doorknob and entered the empty house, Deaton trailing behind him. 

Derek noted internally how strange it felt entering Stiles’ house through the door instead of the teen’s bedroom window, which on reflection sounded really really fucked up. 

Ascending the stairs towards the hyperactive teen’s bedroom with Deaton trailing silently behind him, Derek was surprised to find Stiles' door already wide open, the wood buckled and splintered in the area just below the lock. Entering the room Derek instantly felt colder, like all the warmth was suddenly sucked out of his body by an invisible vacuum whilst his nose scrunched in response to the overwhelmingly bitter smell of anger saturating the air. 

“He was really really angry” the Alpha said in shock as his nose hairs tingled with the subtle hint of something else, something he couldn’t quite place. Something foreign and wrong like it didn’t belong.

Deaton remained silent his head cocked to the side as he approached Stiles’ nightstand with a look of single-minded focus.

“You have exactly 1 minute to explain to me why you and the local vet are inside my missing son’s bedroom, Hale”. His neck snapping upwards Derek swallowed nervously at the sight of John Stilinski standing in the doorway gun drawn and face clouded with fury. Derek was so caught up in the smell and the sheer wrongness of it that he had missed the older man coming up the stairs. 

“59, 58, 57” the Sheriff began counting down with a terrifyingly calm demeanor that even Derek’s inner wolf cowered.

“Mr. Stilinski, if I may, can you answer just one question for me before you shoot Derek?” Deaton interrupted, his finger and thumb pinched delicately around a single pure white Calla Lily which he had plucked from the vase perched on the nightstand. 

Raising a single brow the Sheriff considered his request for a few seconds before nodding in agreement. Derek had a problem with that, specifically the part where the Sheriff SHOOTS HIM!

“Where did Stiles get this flower from?” 

Great, Derek bemoaned to himself in his mind. He was going to get shot so Deaton could find out where a dumb flower came from. Lowering his gun a bit the Sheriff squinted his eyes in confusion before answering reluctantly “his boyfriend, Nick”. 

Giving Derek a significant glance Deaton smiled sadly “well, I guess that confirms your theory, Derek”. Ignoring the confused look the other two men in the room shot him Deaton settled his eyes back on the flower and spoke softly “nochdadh”. 

In a flash the delicate flora became enveloped in thick black smoke that pulsated angrily, as if fighting against something, before dissipating into thin air, leaving nothing but a shriveled up plant in its wake. 

“What the fuck was that?” the Sheriff demanded angrily, and honestly? Derek could second that notion because that thing looked pure evil. Placing the plant back in the vase nonchalantly Deaton wiped his hand on his pants, almost as if he was rubbing something disgusting off his skin. “That, Mr. Stilinski. Was just one of the ways this Nick person has been poisoning your son’s mind against you, and his friends”. 

The gun was raised again this time pointed specifically at Derek much to his chagrin, as the Sheriff growled impatiently “alright Hale, time to spill”. So Derek did. And the Sheriff listened intently as the Alpha launched into a detailed explanation of the situation, revealing how Deaton discovered Stiles’ spark and the Warlock’s presence, their original plan to use a talisman, Laura’s visit and then finally why they were there.

“Well, that explains how he threw me across the hallway and slammed his bedroom door in my face with a flick of his wrist” the Sheriff sighed tiredly as he tucked his gun back into the holster and crossed his arms. “So, you’re going to track my son by smelling him yeah?” he turned the question towards Derek who nodded firmly. “Your best bet is his pillow then, he never sleeps anywhere without it, or at least he never used to. I guess I should have known something strange was up when Stiles didn’t take it to sleep at Nick’s last weekend”. 

Taking the Sheriff’s advice Derek turned his focus onto the teen’s bed, his gaze zeroing in on a particularly old and flat looking pillow. Picking it up Derek pressed the plaid fabric underneath his nose and inhaled deeply. 

Stiles’ scent overwhelmed him. The pure and spiced smell of gingerbread intertwined with gentle undertones of vanilla and coffee made Derek envision warm nights and eyes that looked like the sun shining through a jar of honey. Pulling his face away from the pillow reluctantly Derek felt his eyes burn as they changed red, his instinct clawing desperately to take over. 

Giving a brisk nod to the Sheriff, Derek dropped the pillow back onto the bed before letting the wolf inside take the wheel, his claws growing as he leaped into action following the scent down the stairs and out of the house. The sheriff’s angry voice following him like a whisper in the wind “so, Dr. Deaton. It was your idea not to tell me or my son that he was in danger?”.

Derek was suddenly, very glad he wasn’t Deaton.

 

~#~#~#~#~ Nick’s POV

 

“Your services as always, are truly a godsend, Tobias” Nick smirked as the other man handed him a thin manilla folder with a grunt “don’t make it sound as if I’m here by choice Nicholas, you say jump and all I can say is how high. You made damn sure of that decades ago”. 

“Oh, boo you, killjoy. At least act like you’re enjoying eternal servitude to me or I might just have to make you have fun” sighing Nick rolled his eyes at Tobias, tired of his surly nature ruining his good mood. 

Sensing he was pushing his luck with Nick, and still healing from the last time things got physical between them, Tobias turned the conversation towards safer waters “so, what did that poor sod do to piss you off?”. Humming casually Nick shrugged a shoulder “he was rude” and Tobias laughed mockingly “if he was rude, you would have just killed him. No, this, this is something more. He got under your skin”. 

Gritting his teeth Nick gave Tobias a sour look “he didn’t get under my skin. I just can’t kill him because he’s a friend of Stiles and it would look too suspicious”. Tobias laughed again, this time louder “since when did you care about looking suspicious?”. Inhaling sharply Nick snapped “since Stiles!”.

Blinking Tobias’ smile fell from his face as something dawned on him “you really believe that somewhere, deep down inside that cold shriveled black heart of yours, that you love this kid?”.

“We’re meant to be Tobias. I’m sure you’ll agree once you meet him, after the ritual of course. I can’t have your bad attitude towards me ruining everything” Nick smiled excitedly, not at all like he was talking about taking away the free will of an innocent person. Tobias snorted at the Warlock’s words “if you’re so meant to be. Then why do you need to do a ritual?”. Taking a seat on the sofa Nick crossed one leg over the other and set the file on his lap, opening it to the first page as he answered Tobias “because, dear Tobias, people are often blind to what is best for them and I’m what’s best for Stiles. So, to avoid any mishaps, I’ve decided to take the appropriate precautions”. 

“Your definition of appropriate is very different from everyone else's” Tobias commented snarkily as Nick simply shrugged his focus on the pages in front of him, his mind drinking in the information. Flipping to the next page Nick tilted his head at the picture of a dark haired male in his early twenties paperclipped to the top of the page, he was certainly attractive with his thick dark brows, strong nose, and forest green eyes. Plucking the picture from the paperclip Nick raised it up admiring it with a sneaky smile.

“I can already tell we’re going to have lots of FUN together, Derek”


	29. chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night filled with ups and downs comes to a crashing conclusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO! first off, sorry for the late update. I've started my first semester at Uni for my Master's and it takes me a little while to re-adjust back to having a busier schedule because of my autism :P So please, enjoy this one and sorry again for it being late ^-^

Stiles’ POV

 

Standing in Nick’s apartment hallway for the second time in 24 hours, one hand clenched tightly around the strap of his duffel bag and the other hovering above the surface of the door, Stiles paused to actually think about what he was going to do next.

Would Nick even want Stiles staying with him? Sure, the older man had promised they’d be together forever, but he probably didn’t think forever would include his boyfriend becoming a teenage fucking runaway! Lowering his fist Stile stepped back, a curl of fear tightening around his stomach as he envisioned Nick turning him away, sneering at how pathetic Stiles was before slamming the door in his face. Leaving Stiles alone, with no friends and a father who he couldn’t face because he’d thrown the man across the room with his mind!

God! What the fuck was he even thinking? His dad was already out for blood and here he was incriminating Nick even more by running straight to him! Biting back a groan at his idiocy Stiles rubbed a hand over his face before threading his fingers through his hair and tugging at it sharply “idiot, idiot, idiot”. Taking a deep breath Stiles turned on his heel to walk back down the hall and get back into the elevator when a voice stopped him.

“You looking for Nicholas kiddo?”

Jerking his head around Stiles stared open mouthed at the man standing in the doorway of Nick’s apartment, shoulder leaning against the frame and arms crossed. Flushing under the intense gaze Stiles cleared his throat nervously “y-yeah, is he home?”. A grin stretched across the strangers lightly stubbled face “he’s just popped out, I’m sure he’ll be back soon. You’re welcome to come in until then, Stiles... Isn’t it?”. Taking a second to consider his rather limited alternative options Stiles nodded and smiled “yeah, thanks”. 

Shifting out of the way the man let Stiles into the apartment before closing the door behind them with a click. Making his way through the familiar layout Stiles went to dump his duffle bag beside the couch pausing at the sight of a file scattered across the coffee table, tearing his eyes away from the papers before he started to look nosy Stiles addressed the other man wearily “am I interrupting work? Cause I can totally leave if I am”. 

The man laughed and shook his head “work? No, I was just dropping off something for Nick” nodding Stiles moved away from the couch and turned his attention fully onto the stranger “so you work with Nick, ...Mr..?”. 

“Tobias, you can call me Tobias, kid” the man, who Stiles now knew to be called Tobias chuckled deeply, watching Stiles shift with an uncomfortable note of intensity. Face turning red with embarrassment Stiles huffed stroppily “I’m not a kid” earning another infuriatingly condescending chuckle. Rolling his eyes Stiles walked past Tobias, making his way into the kitchen and reaching for the cupboard he knew held the alcohol, knowing that Nick wouldn’t mind if he drowned his sorrows in some scotch. Wordlessly Stiles poured himself a glass before pushing another towards Tobias in a silent offer, the bottle kept close to his side for a refill. 

Swallowing a mouthful Stiles focussed on the comforting burn of the sharp and smoky whiskey traveling down his throat instead of the heavy silence which pressed against his ears like a heavy pillow. Tobias accepted his offer of the drink, cradling the expensive crystal glass with a smirk “I can see why Nicholas likes you, he always was one to fall for a pretty face and a fiery personality”.   
Taking another drink Stiles raised a brow, curiosity niggling at him “so you’ve known Nick for a long time then?”. Nodding Tobias stared into the contents of his glass in deep thought, an almost bitter smile gracing his lips “known him forever it seems”. Frowning Stiles pointed out the obvious unhappiness that Tobias was radiating “you don’t seem too happy about that considering you work together”. 

The older man snorted loudly before downing the rest of his drink and pouring himself some more “Nick is a businessman for a reason, he’s slimy at the best of times and downright threatening at the worst. He has a way of twisting your arm to get you to work with him, even if you don’t want to”. Squinting his eyes in disbelief and suspicion Stiles gripped the glass in his hand harder “that doesn’t sound like the Nick I know”. 

“That’s cause the Nick you know is a fucking lie, kid. He’s dangerous and you’re just another one of his pawns that he’s going to play with until he gets bored. Like all the rest that came before you. So take my advice, go home, delete his number and forget about him before it's too late”. 

Slamming his glass down on the surface of the kitchen island Stiles leaned forward his eyes glinting with anger “listen asshole, the last thing I need in my life is another person who thinks they know what’s best for me, so thanks for the shitty advice, but I think I’ll be just fine without it”. Holding up his hands in a placating gesture Tobias sighed “alright, but before you really make up your mind, how about you go have a little peek at that file on the table? I’m sure you’ll find information in there that will shed a certain… unattractive light onto your dear Nicholas”. 

Face screwing up with determination Stiles pushed away from the island with a grunt “alright, fine”. Making his way across the room towards the file lying on the coffee table with steady strides, confident that he could trust Nick with his life and that Tobias was just spinning vicious jealous lies.

 

~#~#~#~#~ Derek’s POV

 

Derek had to hand it to Stiles, he really did, because if it wasn’t the Alpha who was tracking him and just a normal human then they would have never have figured out the route the teen took. Unfortunately, even with his tracking abilities, Derek was too late, Stiles’ scent disappearing at the bus station, the younger man most likely on one of the already departed busses. 

Taking a few deep breaths in and out Derek closed his eyes and swore loudly into the cold night air “fuck”. Kicking the tarmac with the toe of his boots in frustration Derek resisted the urge to roar, the slow sinking realization that Stiles had slipped out of his grasp settling into his chest like a dead weight. Pulling out his phone and dialing Deaton’s number Derek began the trek back towards the Stilinski residence.

“Tell the Sheriff that I tracked Stiles’ scent to the bus station before it disappeared, he’s going to have to get access to the CCTV to see which bus Stiles took”

Hanging up the phone after receiving confirmation from the Emissary Derek sighed deeply staring into the dark night sky, shoving his hands into his pockets. The Alpha wasn’t in a rush to get back to the Sheriff and face the disappointment the older man was most likely going to be feeling because Derek had failed him, had failed his son. 

Heart sinking into his stomach the closer he got to the street Stiles’ lived on, Derek briefly considered running in the other direction, towards the woods where he could howl and cry and punch things until he felt marginally better, but he couldn’t. Not when the Sheriff needed his help, not when Stiles needed his help. Trudging up the patio steps Derek skipped knocking on the door, instead just walking straight into the house and heading towards the singular heartbeat echoing in the kitchen. 

Peeking his head around the door leading into the kitchen/dining room Derek frowned with concern at the solitary figure of Mr. Stilinski slumped over an old wooden table having an intense stare-off with a bottle of whiskey. Dark brows furrowing Derek approached the table with slow quiet steps as not to startle the older man who seemed to be buried within his thoughts “where’s Deaton?” he asked curiously, noting the distinct lack of the other man’s heartbeat anywhere on the property. Breaking his gaze away from the bottle the Sheriff leveled Derek with a tired and sad stare “I sent him home Derek, he can’t do anything anyways until we find Stiles...if.. we find him”. 

Clenching his jaw at the almost defeated tone of voice coming from the Sheriff, Derek pulled out the chair opposite and sat down, his features hardened with determination “we’re going to find Stiles, Mr. Stilinski. I promise”. The Sheriff just smiled solemnly “thanks son, I wish I could believe you, I do. But this man, this monster… he’s done what I never thought was possible, he’s taken my boy from me”. Reaching forward the older man hesitated, his fingers hovering beside the neck of the whiskey bottle as a dark look clouded his face. Sensing the battle waging inside the Sheriff’s mind Derek spoke up, hoping to distract the other from making a decision that they would regret.

“Stiles is stubborn and brave. He can break through this, I just know it. Nick’s spell over him won’t stand a chance once he knows the truth” Derek stated firmly, truly believing in the words that were coming out of his mouth. He trusted in Stiles’ sheer ability to defy the odds, after all, he was the boy who held a paralyzed Alpha up in a high school swimming pool for over 2 hours whilst a Kanima was on the loose. 

To his surprise and relief, the Sheriff laughed and dropped his hand from its position over the bottle, tucking it back onto his lap. “Yeah, you’re right about that. If there’s anything my son is good at, it’s being braver than I could ever hope to be”. 

~#~#~#~#~ Nick’s POV

 

Sighing in disappointment at the empty loft, Nick leant against the back of the couch with a look of contemplation on his face. He had planned on having a rather nice talk with Mr. Hale, but that didn’t seem to be on the cards since the man was currently absent from his own home. Taking one last glance around Nick decided that their meeting could wait another day, he didn’t feel too comfortable leaving the likes of Tobias on his own in his apartment for too long. 

Pushing himself up with a huff Nick strode towards the doors, thoroughly disheartened that he didn’t have the chance to play like he wanted to before he froze, an idea forming in his head. Summoning a piece of paper and a pen with his magic Nick scribbled out a quick note, a smirk stretching across his lips as he signed it with his name and a kiss. Walking back towards the center of the living room Nick hummed thoughtfully as he considered where to place his little gift. His eyes falling upon a book lying open on the arm of one of the single chairs, pressing a kiss to the paper Nick deposited it gently on the book. Content that he had done what damage he could without the other man being present, Nick let the loft whistling a little tune. 

Something was wrong.

Nick could sense it as soon as he entered his apartment building, like a nagging little voice inside his head warning him. Eyes narrowing in suspicion Nick raced his way towards the elevator, quickly pressing the button for his floor. Clenching his fists the Warlock waited impatiently inside the elevator, the ride up towards his apartment feeling like it lasted much longer than usual. Pushing his way out of the elevator as soon as the doors started to open Nick tilted his head in confusion, the familiar essence of Stiles saturating the hallway as if the teen had walked down it recently and not hours ago. Eyes widening as realization dawned on him Nick swore loudly “fuck!”. 

Running down the hallway Nick threw open the door to his apartment, his eyes focussing immediately on Stiles standing, his back to the door with Derek Hale’s file open in his shaking hands. 

“Stiles..” Nick trailed off as the teen spun around, his pretty little face screwed up in a picture of pure betrayal “why do you have this Nick?”. Tobias stood by the kitchen island, his face split into a manic grin as he watched the exchange with greedy eyes. 

Clicking his tongue in distaste at the way his evening was going so quickly downhill Nick snapped his fingers, Stiles’ body dropping to the floor heavily with a thud.


	30. chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick has a trick up his sleeve to keep Stiles sweet and Derek continues his talk with the Sheriff.

Nick’s POV

Sighing in disappointment Nick walked towards Stiles’ unconscious form before crouching down beside him and trailing his fingers down the soft skin of the teen’s cheek. “Minor setback, but don’t worry love. I’ll have everything sorted in no-time” he cooed comfortingly as if his words would matter to the younger man knocked out on the polished floor. 

Tobias laughed smugly in the background “oh, I can’t wait to see you worm your way out of this one Nicholas”. Ignoring him, Nick slipped his arms underneath Stiles’ neck and his knees, lifting in one smooth movement. Stiles’ head tucked safely in the crook of his neck, Nick carefully stepped over the spilled contents of the file and made his way towards his bedroom, using his magic to open the door. 

Gently depositing Stiles on the sheets Nick turned towards the antique Omani teak wood and brass storage chest pushed up against the right wall. Bending down in front of the chest Nick reached underneath the collar of his shirt revealing an ornate brass key attached to a thin silver chain around his neck. Pulling the chain over his head in one swift movement he unlocked the heavy padlock and wrenched open the lid. Sticking his hand inside, Nick nudged a few miscellaneous items out of the way before finally managing to wrap his fingers around the spell book. Closing the lid with a snap Nick began to flip through the pages as the sound of Tobias entering the room filled his ears, followed closely by a heavily sarcastic remark.

“So what’s your master plan now, Nick? Keep the kid knocked out till Saturday? Doesn’t sound very lovin-”

Throwing his hand out in the direction of the self-satisfied voice Nick clenched his fingers into a fist, cutting Tobias off mid-sentence as a thick black rope of smoke snaked around his neck and squeezed. Glancing up from the book Nick watched with cold and silent detachment as Tobias gasped and clawed desperately at the wisp of magic cutting off his air supply. Eyes bulging comically Tobia stumbled to the side in a state of increasing panic, his body crashing unceremoniously against the wall of the bedroom before sliding down to the floor as his face started to turn a violent shade of red. 

Curling his lip Nick began speaking whilst Tobias writhed on the floor, the whites of his wide brown eyes littered with burst blood vessels “take heed Tobias, because I am saying this once, and only once. Whilst I usually find your rather pathetic attempts at trying to force me to end your suffering highly amusing, If you DARE to try and interfere with my plans for Stiles again, I promise to make every single thing I’ve ever done to you the past 30 years look like a walk in the fucking park! Am I understood?”. 

A pitiful whistling wheeze sounded out from Tobias’ lips in reply. 

Satisfied that he had gotten his message across, Nick unclenched his fingers and lowered his hand leaving Tobias sprawled across the floor heaving in great lungfuls of air through blue tinged lips. “Now, I suggest you leave before I change my mind about being merciful and not rearranging your limbs. I need all the peace I can get in order to fix the mess you’ve made” Nick dismissed callously as he turned his attention back to Stiles lying on the bed. 

 

\--- time skip ---

After finishing loading up the breakfast tray with a steaming cup of chamomile tea, a large slice of chocolate and orange tart and a bottle of painkillers, Nick made his way back to the room to begin to wake Stiles up. Sitting on the side of the bed he delicately placed the tray down beside his feet before leaning over the teen with a soft smile. Placing both his right and left index and pointer fingers lightly on Stiles’ temples, Nick gently tugged the younger man’s consciousness to the surface, past the thick smog of magically induced sleep. 

“Rise and shine, bambino mio”

Stiles let out a faint groan, his brow furrowing as his eyes moved rapidly beneath closed lids before fluttering open almost reluctantly. Helping the sluggish teen to sit up against the pillows, Nick brushed his hand across Stiles’ forehead with care whilst staring deeply into his hazy golden eyes, the book had emphasized the importance of keeping heavy eye contact after conducting the spell. 

“How are you feeling, love?”

Giving Nick a wobbly smile whilst leaning into the tender touch, Stiles breathed out a weak laugh “like I’ve been run over with a bus”. Tutting in sympathy Nick ran his hand down the side of Stiles’ face, gently cupping his jaw “I’m afraid that’s normal after passing out from a panic attack”. Wincing in what Nick guessed was embarrassment at the fake memories he had carefully implanted, Stiles sighed “yeah, I’m… I’m so sorry about that”. 

Smiling reassuringly rubbed his thumb across the soft skin of Stiles’ cheek in a soothing motion “no need to apologize, love. Panic attacks are nasty things, and they're nothing to be ashamed of”. With that said, Nick relinquished his hold on Stiles’ jaw, reaching down to the tray on the floor and presenting it to the teen with a grin. “I made you some chamomile tea to help calm your stress, and I've cut you a nice slice of chocolate tart for a sugar boost. There's also a bottle of painkillers there if you have a headache”.

Looking at the breakfast tray with a genuine mixture of surprise and gratefulness, Stiles grinned at Nick “you're honestly the most wonderful boyfriend ever, do you know that?”. 

Nick smiled widely in return “of course I do, now drink your tea. It's getting cold”. Stiles laughed wrapping his hands around the still steaming mug “aye, aye, captain!”. 

 

 

~#~#~#~#~ Derek’s POV

 

“You never told me why you care so much about what happens to my son” the Sheriff blurted out randomly as Derek placed a cup of chamomile tea in front of him, the bottle of whiskey tucked safely back under the sink. Blinking in confusion Derek paused, hovering awkwardly over the older man as the words sunk into the air with the heavy weight of accusation. 

“What?” Derek replied, dumbfounded. 

Taking the handle of the cup in one hand the Sheriff pulled it closer to his chest, almost protectively whilst staring blankly into the steaming yellow liquid. “Stiles told me he quit the pack ages ago, and Scott didn’t care enough about him to even spend time with him this past month so why do you care? He’s not a werewolf, you’re not his Alpha. So why.do.you. care?”.

Inhaling deeply Derek took a seat back down at the table, his eyes staring at the patterns in the wood grain with intensity as he asked hesitantly “so ..did Stiles ever tell you how many times he saved my life?” earning a head shake in reply. Leaning back Derek settled in to tell the sheriff all about Stiles’ heroic achievements over the past two years. 

“I guess, the first time Stiles helped save my life was when I got shot..” the Sheriff gave Derek a shocked look and the Alpha laughed gently “yeah, I hadn’t known Scott or Stiles for all that long when that happened, it was pretty soon after Scott got bitten. I don’t even know why I sought out their help, I mean they were teenagers but I guess the wolfsbane had gotten into my system too much by then for me to think clearly. Stiles drove me to Deaton’s whilst Scott tried to search Allison’s house for the wolfsbane bullet I needed for the cure. But time was running out the poison was spreading closer to my heart and I knew with each beat that I was just one step closer to death, and I couldn’t die. Not before finding out who killed Laura and avenging her. So, I asked Stiles to saw off the wounded arm”. 

Choking on his mouthful of chamomile tea the Sheriff coughed loudly, his face red with strain as he exclaimed in disbelief “my-my son… cut off your arm?!”. Snorting Derek shook his head “no, luckily Scott got the bullet back to the clinic before it came to that. I didn’t appreciate it then, or for a long time after, just how much Stiles risked by helping me instead of just turning away. I could have lost control, I could have hurt him because of the poison but he still helped me, even when I was an asshole to him and Scott”. 

“Stiles is a lot of things, a pain in the ass definitely but he wouldn’t abandon someone who needed his help” the Sheriff smiled proudly and Derek nodded in agreement, “I think I finally realized that after the second time he saved my life”. 

Taking the older man’s silence as an indication to continue, Derek crossed his arms “the second time was all Stiles, and sure Scott showed up at the last minute like usual but Stiles… he was the one who held me up for 2 hours in that damn swimming pool. He could have drowned, we both could have drowned. The kanima was waiting for us to leave the water so it could finish us off but he didn’t give up, didn’t give up on Scott even when it looked like he wasn’t coming”.

Blowing out a heavy breath Derek laughed “I’m also pretty sure he saved the pack’s lives that night at the warehouse when Scott’s master plan went south. If Stiles didn’t show up when he did with Lydia, Jackson would have killed us”. 

Scowling the Sheriff sipped the tea with a displeased grunt “I’m beginning to see a pattern here”. Knowing what the Sheriff was getting at Derek shrugged “I don’t think Scott means harm, he just has his priorities wrong sometimes. I know what it’s like to be blinded by one goal that you don’t see the damage you’re doing, I did it when looking for Laura’s killer and I did it when I first became an Alpha too. Jackson changing into the Kanima was my fault because I didn’t think twice about biting him so I’d have a bigger, stronger pack. Erica and Boyd dying was my fault too”. 

Shaking his head the Sheriff gave Derek a soft look “you couldn’t have known what would happen”. Seeing his chance to interject Derek raised a brow and a soft yet pointed smile towards the older man “kind of like how Scott couldn’t have known?”. Leaning back the Sheriff sighed heavily whilst running his hands over his face “you’re right, I’m channeling all my anger at everybody else when all I really want is to find my son. I also really want to shoot Nick’s dick off with a shotgun, but that can wait until Stiles’ is safe”.

Chuckling Derek nodded in agreement, he certainly wouldn’t mind seeing the Sheriff take a gun to the Warlock’s genitals. Slapping his hands on his knees the older man gave the kitchen clock a weary glance, it was nearing 3 am and Derek was sure that as soon as he could the Sheriff is going to be back at the station searching for Stiles. Raising up from his seat Derek tucked his hands into his jacket pockets “you should get some sleep, Stiles is going to need you to be rested when we find him”. 

Getting ready to leave Derek paused at the sound of the Sheriff’s voice “thank you”. Turning his head Derek furrowed his brow in confusion “for what?”. 

“For caring about my son” the Sheriff was looking at Derek with something the Alpha couldn’t quite place, and it made Derek’s heart beat erratically in his chest and his face flush. In a bid to hide his nervousness Derek cleared his throat and nodded shakily before hurrying his way out of the house, desperate to escape the knowing glint in the older man’s eyes. 

\--- time skip ---

Throwing his jacket onto the arm of the sofa with an exhausted huff, Derek slumped down onto the puffy seats with his head in his hands. His mind was spinning. So much had happened over the last 24 hours and his brain was still struggling to process it. The biggest thing though, the one moment he kept replaying in his mind over and over again, was that look of utter heartbroken betrayal on Stiles’ face when Derek had brought up the teens feelings for him.   
Derek really hoped he hadn’t ruined things with Stiles because of that one mistake made in the heat of the moment. Letting out a large pitiful groan Derek dropped his hands to his lap and threw his head back. 

Laura was right. His life was like a bad romantic comedy. 

Giving himself a mental kick up the backside, Derek decided to take his own advice and go to bed. Leaving his jacket on the arm Derek pushed himself upwards, his back cracking loudly at the sudden movement. Passing the armchair on his way towards the wrought iron staircase Derek paused before backtracking. 

There, lying on the pages of his open book was a crisp white note written in elegant script. A note that certainly hadn’t been there when Derek left the loft. 

Stomach twisting with unease Derek reached down with hesitant fingers, grasping the note and bringing it into the silvery light of the moon shining through the windows, anxiety quickly turned into anger once he read the words. 

Meet me at the cafe, tomorrow at 1 pm  
Don’t be late  
Nick


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after a big night and Derek finally meets Nick face to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI!! hope you like the chapter :) updates will take longer simply because of my workload with studying my masters but I haven't abandoned it! :P don't worry, I will see this story to the end and then to its sequel!!

Stiles’ POV 

Wiggling his hips to the music Stiles expertly threw the pancake into the air, grinning in pride as the perfectly circular shaped batter flipped three times before landing safely back into the frying pan. 

He was a pancake GOD! 

Delicately sliding the golden brown pancake on top of the steadily growing stack in the middle of the island, Stiles turned back around intending on adding another to the pile. Just to be safe. Body still swaying to the sound of the music, Stiles reached for last of the batter in the bowl on the bench beside him, only to let out a startled yelp as sneaky little fingers grasped his hips and pulled him back against a warm solid wall of flesh. 

“Nick!!” 

Nick just laughed, nuzzling his face into the delicate slope of skin between Stiles jaw and shoulder blade. Leaning back into the touch Stiles let his bare toes curl against the cold kitchen tiles in pleasure, pancakes all but forgotten. 

“Mhmm, you're distracting me” Stiles mumbled half-heartedly as Nick started to gently kiss the moles running down the surface of his skin. The older man took no notice, however, choosing instead to keep up the tender touching of his warm lips to Stiles’ neck. One hand still gripping the handle of the frying pan, Stiles used the other one to thread his fingers through Nick's soft hair and tugged sharply. Chuckling Nick pulled his mouth away, resting his chin on Stiles’ shoulder with a cheeky smile “I know you did that to tell me off but all it did was turn me on even more love”. 

Rolling his eyes Stiles proceeded with pouring the remaining batter into the pan as Nick stubbornly stayed attached to him like a koala around a tree. “And here I thought I was the one who was supposed to be the horny teenager in this relationship” Stiles commented snarkily whilst flipping the pancake into the air. Laughing in response Nick squeezed Stiles’ hips, conceding to the younger man “alright, alright. You win. No fun stuff until after breakfast”. Pressing a chaste kiss to Stiles’ cheek Nick left him in peace to finish his task, much to the teen’s relief. Burnt pancakes didn’t taste very nice after all. 

\---time skip---

True to his word Nicholas waited until they had both finished their breakfast of fresh strawberries, pancakes and whipped creme before whisking Stiles back off to bed in a fumble of heated kisses and roaming hands. 

Laying with his cheek resting on Nick’s sculpted chest, Stiles sighed in contentment, nuzzling into the warm body underneath him like a happy cat. Nick’s short nails scratched gently on his scalp in soothing circular motions as they both basked in the glow of post-coital bliss. A sudden thought occurred to Stiles, causing him to turn his head, his chin now propped up on Nick’s left pec as he stared curiously at the older man “don’t you have work today?”. 

Shaking his head with a grin, Nick continued running his fingers through Stiles’ messy hair “I have a meeting with a client out of town at 1 but until then, I’m all yours love”. Smiling widely in return Stiles settled back down, focussing solely on the way Nick’s chest rose and fell underneath his cheek and the thumping of the man’s heart.

Silence reigned and Stiles for once in his life didn’t feel the need to fill it with senseless words, he just lay there, taking advantage of one of the rare moments where his brain didn’t seem like it was screaming at him. The peace wasn’t destined to last, however, as Nick spoke up, gently as his fingers moved down from Stiles’ hair into the nape of his neck “you never told me what made you so upset last night Stiles”. Closing his eyes Stiles sighed deeply, his heart lurching at the memory of the argument with his father, echoes of rage and sadness still bubbling below the surface. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to sweetheart, I just want you to know you can always talk to me. I’ll always be here for you” Nick cooed pressing a kiss to Stiles’ forehead. Shaking his head a little bit, Stiles hugged himself closer to Nick “it's okay, you deserve to know why I turned up on your doorstep and passed out like a pathetic little kid”. 

Humming in disapproval Nick scowled at Stiles’ self-deprecating tone, speaking to the teen firmly “it wasn't pathetic Stiles, it's okay to be upset. I only asked because I thought it might be something I could help with”. Chewing on his bottom lip Stiles sighed once again, “no, you can't fix this. Nothing can. My dad… he..we had an argument and things were said, mostly about you. He was saying I couldn't see you anymore, that he would arrest you if you tried to see me” pausing, Stiles sniffled as tears gathered in his eyes and his throat clogged up with emotion. Nick started rubbing Stiles’ neck in comfort, keeping silent as the teen tried to collect his thoughts. “He was so angry Nick. And I knew, I knew he meant everything he said and I couldn't let him do that. I couldn't let him take you away from me. You're the only thing keeping me sane if I lost you… I don't know what I'd do” Stiles whispered, his heart skipping a beat at the mere thought of the Englishman no longer being in his life. “I can't lose you, not when I...not when I know I'm falling in love with you” Stiles admitted truthfully, fear niggling away at him as he revealed the extent of his feelings for the other man, a large part of him still so terrified of rejection that speaking the words felt like signing his own death warrant. 

Moments passed which felt like a lifetime. The stuttering beat of Stiles’ heart pounding in his own ears filling the silence like an engine of a steam train. 

“Oh, Stiles” Nick breathed softly, a distinct undercurrent sympathy in his voice as he wrapped an arm securely around Stiles’ waist, nuzzling his face into the teen's hair before declaring in total confidence. 

“Nothing will take you away from me, I promise”

 

~#~#~#~#~ Nick’s POV

 

Surveying the area with and interested gaze Nick stirred his cup of English tea with the small metal spoon absently. The cafe was certainly a quaint little place, Nick thought to himself. He could see why Stiles liked it so much. Smiling as his mind strayed back to the teen safely tucked away in his loft, Nick began to plan their evening in his mind. First, they would have dinner at one of his favorite restaurants and then Nick would take him back to the club where he’d finally introduce his coven. 

The slightly rusted bell above the door jingled, signaling a customer had entered the building. Pulled from his internal musings for the night ahead of him, Nick’s eyes fell upon the broad-shouldered figure who stood by the door with a scowl. Lips twitching upwards into a smirk Nick raised his hand and waved cheerily to the man who’s emerald eyes glowed with anger once spotting Nick. 

“So glad you could make it, lovely to finally meet you, Derek. I would say Stiles has told me all about you but, well... He hasn’t” tapping the spoon against the rim of his cup Nick watched Derek intently as the other man came to a stop beside his table. Giving a wide grin Nick stuck the spoon in his mouth and sucked the drops of sweetened tea off its surface, removing the spoon after a few seconds with a loud obnoxious POP. Movement flickered from the corner of his eye and Nick noted with a flash of smugness that Derek was clenching his fists in anger.

Impressively dark brows furrowed as the other man curled his lip downwards into a sneer before grunting out words between clenched teeth “where is Stiles?”. Playing dumb Nick tilted his head “at home, as far as I know, I haven’t seen him since yesterday afternoon” he answered innocently. 

Derek’s fist slammed against the cheap wooden table, the frame shuddering dangerously causing Nick’s teacup to rattle as the other occupants of the cafe watching the exchange with startled expressions. Eyes narrowing Nick inclined his head towards the seat opposite, his voice hardened from the previously mischievous tone “I think you should take a seat Mr. Hale, and stop causing such a scene. Don’t you?”. 

A growling sound vibrated from the other man’s chest in response and Nick decided he had had enough, raising his hand Nick flicked his index and pointer finger to the side and then down. Like a puppet on strings, Derek’s body followed the finger’s movement uncontrollably, feet sliding across the old hardwood floor like skates on ice before he dropped down onto the worn cushion of the seat. Arms firmly stuck to his sides with his legs locked together by an invisible force, Derek grunted softly as he struggled futilely against the magic. 

“Down, Fido”

Shock filtered across Derek’s face and Nick let out a laugh “what? You think I didn’t know about your little moon sickness? That’s cute. But fortunately for me, I recognized the name Hale, and when I read all about you well...let’s just say it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out, now does it?”. Keeping the werewolf seated with his magic, Nick delicately picked up his cup and took a sip, deliberately making the other man wait in order to ruffle his feathers. 

It worked.

“You broke into my house, why?” Derek hissed out angrily his face leaning forwards as his eyes flashed red. Shrugging Nick leaned forward with a grin “maybe I just wanted to say hello, or maybe I just wanted to thank you”. The Alpha twisted his face in confusion, the red fading from his eyes in an instant “thank me for what?”. 

Grin stretching wider across his face Nick batted his eyelashes “oh? You don't know? Well you see, I wanted to thank you for answering Stiles’ phone yesterday. Because without that, you two wouldn't have had that truly terrible argument, and then I wouldn't have gotten to reap the rather enjoyable benefits”. 

Derek still looked confused. Sighing Nick placed his cup back down on the table, threading his fingers and propping his chin on them. “I'll spell it out for you then, shall I? You mess up, Stiles gets upset, and who does he come running to for comfort hmm? His beloved boyfriend of course! And I don't know about you, but I find nothing comforts the soul more than a good old round of very passionate sex”.

The Alpha swallowed thickly, clenching his jaw in anger as hatred bubbled beneath the surface. Nick knew he had struck a nerve, so he kept going, taking perverse pleasure in goading the wolf, like a bullfighter in the ring. 

“I mean, truthfully I was starting to think I’d have to wait a little longer to get him into my bed, he’s a shy one, insecure about his body. But you, you riled him up so much that he practically begged for it. Pleading at me with those big, Bambi eyes and a man can only take so much before he gives in if you know what I mean”. The anger simmering inside the wolf worsened with every word falling from Nick’s lips, and the Warlock could see how this was a better plan then peeling the wolf’s skin strip by strip. 

“And the sounds” whistling lowly, Nick picked up the small dessert fork from the side of the plate holding his brownie, using the blunt side to cut a corner piece from the baked treat and spearing it with the tines. “The sounds were just magical. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but Stiles is a very vocal being, and I’m proud to say I know from first-hand experience that that trait extends to the bedroom” chuckling Nick popped the piece of brownie into his mouth and chewed. 

Derek was breathing heavily now, his chest rising and falling as the blazing red returned to his eyes and Nick had no doubt that those pretty little claws were making an appearance underneath the table. “How about you lift whatever spell you’ve got trapping me to this seat and we’ll see just how much fun you have talking about Stiles like that when I rip your throat out with my teeth”. Raising his eyebrows at Derek’s snarled response, Nick pondered the suggestion for a brief moment before shaking his head and grinning “Nah, I think I like things the way they are. You, stuck to the seat like a sitting duck whilst I lament about taking Stiles’ virginity and how he loved every, single, minute of it. It’s amusing”. 

The Alpha’s face contorted with the obvious effort not to wolf out in the middle of the cafe and Nick suppressed a giggle, it was always fun to poke the beasts. Leaning back Nick crossed his arms with a smug smirk “you see, the thing about you wolves is... You always think you’re the biggest bad there is, and then when something else comes along, something stronger, you don’t even stand a chance”. Finishing his tea and picking up the remaining brownie from the plate Nick stood up “and unfortunately for you, in this case, I’m the stronger one” pausing Nick deposited a few bills on the table before leaning over, his face stopping mere centimeters away from Derek’s. 

“Stiles is mine”

With that said Nick straightened back up and bit into the brownie with a grin, sparing Derek a parting wave Nick exited the cafe, confident that the magic wouldn’t wear off for at least another hour. Leaving Nick plenty of time to make his way back home.

Back home to Stiles.


	32. chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles' subconscious isn't ready to lie down and let Nick do what he wants without putting up a fight!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO SHOULD BE WRITING ESSAYS?? ME!! I SHOULD!! .... but I'm not :P

Stiles’ POV

 

Blinking, Stiles looked down to the screen of his phone, his brows furrowed tightly in confusion at the draft text message to his dad being composed, his thumb hovering over the keypad ready to type out the next letter.

HEL

He didn’t remember writing that. He didn’t remember picking up his phone or walking into Nick’s bedroom where he had left his phone in the first place. The last thing he remembered was lying on the couch watching Netflix. 

Chewing his bottom lip viciously Stiles shook his head and exited the text, a weird nauseating pulse of pressure making itself known at the front of his forehead, spreading behind his eyeballs like a rapidly inflating balloon. Closing his eyes he gripped the phone tighter and screwed up his face in pain. Then, the balloon popped. 

Warmth seemed to trickle down from his brain, tickling the hairs in his nose before landing with a soft PLIP, PLIP onto the phone’s surface. Eyes springing back open Stiles took in the sight of the angry red splotches of blood on the glass with a clenching stomach. The pain was still there, in his head, but less like a blooming flower of pressure and more sharp like needles piercing the delicate meat of his brain. 

Lifting up his free hand Stiles used the back of it to wipe the dribbling blood away, smearing his skin with a vibrant red streak. Inspecting the marred flesh with an unfocused gaze Stiles mumbled softly under his breath “shit”. Quickly wiping his phone screen clean with the bottom of his t-shirt, Stiles tossed the device onto the bed and headed into the bathroom with shaky steps. 

He needed to wash his face, Nick couldn’t see him like this. 

Grasping the sides of the speckled marble sink with desperate fingers Stiles hung his head and groaned as more blood leaked out of his nostrils and splattered into the bottom of the oval shaped basin. Squeezing his eyes shut against the brightness of the bathroom lights that seemed to get more and more intense with every passing second, Stiles tried to focus not passing out, he never was good with the sight of his own blood. There was just something alarming about seeing your blood outside of your body when you KNOW instinctively it should be inside. 

Swallowing thickly as his ears began to fill with white noise that grew louder and louder until he was sure he would end up blacking out on the cold tile floor. 

And then the noise began to transform into whispers. Frantic hushed words that garbled into each other with urgency.   
.  
.  
r̜̺̪̜̝͍̩̞̬̽̅̓̌̇ŭ̸̯̪͓̘͇͇̭̥̐͌͋̇̏͞ͅn̝̟̙̦̖̻̟̅̈̊̔͌͠ ę͇͓̻̯͉̟̳̣̑́͆͊͡s̷̡͈̙̹̖̜͙̥̩͓̋͐̇̒͑̋̍̀̑͡c̗̖̣̞̭̅̓̎͌̐́͝ͅå̲͓̩͈͉͖̺̋̃̒̍͢͠͠͝͞ṕ̷̢̧̛̼̮̜͚̞̪͆̂͐̍̿̉̄̋ͅe̴̢̛̯̙̬̭̘͍̲͗͗̓̾̿̂͌͡ . q̵̛̩̦͔̲̦̘̃̋́̾͘̕ử͓̦͎̜̦̿̓͋͊̍̔͝ī̸̼̬͕̲͚̣̺͑̀̂͛̆̇͠c͚͖̗̯̲͙͚͕̩͌̇̓̆̿͒͠͝k͇̥͔̭̞̗̺͑͋̐͊̂̄͟͜,̵̪̯̬̬̖̈́̓͑̓̀̃͛̕͢͡͡q̷̧̹̭̩̅͆̑̓͆͟͡ų̨̥̮̫͙͉̥̅͒̄͆̑į̴̢͖̘̜̗̘͂͐̑͛̏̂͑̚͜͢ͅc̡̠̦̯̫̩̜͒̍̾͑͐̊k̨̧͍͇̯̯͕̣̳̒͛́͐̐̓   
.

 

R̷͈̹̹͚̠̯̍̌̈͂̅̊̅̄̂U̵͍͕̥̝̳̼̳̖͍̇̄̀̋̄̈́̇͟N̛̙̘̲̠͇̉̀̾̆͗͟͝!̙̠͙̩͉̂̾̈́̐͆͋̚͠!͈̥͎̟̩̰͍͕̔͑̊͊͛̕ . 

 

h̸̛̗̟̤̺̠̣̉͆̑̓͗ĕ̯͚̠͓͍̾̔̕͘̚͜'̷̙̪̭̹̮̪͚̈́͛̅̍̚͜s̭̘̬̻͚̥͆̎̊̑̑͞͞ l̛̬̤͈̪̟͔͖̋͐̿̽̊̉̀͟ẙ̛̻̙̙͔̫̲̰̿́̑į̶̮̬̤̮̔̈̓̽̑̇͒͑̀͢n̶̦̺̦̣̰̗̓͆̆͗̃̓͑̅̿ͅg̡̨̗͍̟̰̏͌̒̋̓̀̿͒͘͢͜ 

 

d̢̢̠̫͔̣̫̳̍̈͑̆̌̓̍̋͆a͈͍̤̤̝̻̭͈̐̽͋̽̉͑͌͋̒̚͜n̸̢̟̬̮̘̼̙̜̣̽͊͊̒̅̃̌͜͝ğ̲̫̜͚̣̱̍̃̀͗̾̽̕̚̕e̸̥̯̣͔̹͎̮̬̖̖͂̔̿̉̎̊͠r̴̼͇̱̝͙̥͖̩͐̍͒̅̏̈͒͋͜͝ 

.  
.  
r̮̻͕̬̗͕̓̀͑̑͌͆̀̚͝ų̘͕̰͖̱̈̔̂̏̄̎͞ṉ̶̥̩̯̖͗̀̓̋͑̍̉  
̣̣̲̲̞̦̰̿͂̔͐̎̉͆̀͘ͅ  
̛̤̺̼̞̘̰̻̳͌̔͌̽͘͜͞r̵͈̩͙̭̻̠͒͗̇̿͊̑̈́̔͜͡Ů̷̫̩̩̤̙̦̂̃̎̋́̚̕͠ņ̛͇̩̯̙̠͎̉͂̋͛̋͐̎  
̖̭̝̈̄̉̅̚͟͜͝  
̧̯̱̰̌̉̿̂̊̚͠͞ͅṚ̵̨̦̼̘̒͛̒̃͛̚U̧̖̘̮̺͑̐͑̽̏̅͊͑͘͜͞N̛͉̼̳͈̒̿̌̅̂̉͜  
̲̹̠̘̬̀̎̿̈́͑  
̢̡̡̩̫̣̼̫̘̔̍̄̂͊̆̍͘͠ͅR̡̙̫̗̲͉͉̎͗̊͋͠Ủ̷̼̦̳͍̥͓̫̲̈͊͗͌̾N̸̛̘̥͔̝̰̘̘̖̑̑͊͂̚͜͠R̹̼͓̪͍̫̃̀̆͒͜͢͞͠͞Ư̴̧̘̠̹̘̼̹͎̝̏̉̎̋͊̈́͜͡͠N̳̜̭̹͕̄̒̚͟͡͠Ȓ̶̳͖͚̙̻̟͐͒͑̍̈̐̓͊͞Ữ̞̻͍̥̙̻̯̫̋͌N̴̙̲̘̜̤̳̜̓̍̈͒̒̂͢͠͝

.  
Filled with the sudden inexplicable urge to run as far and as fast as he could, Stiles let go of the sink and spun on his heel, the chanting whispers in his head urging him through the dizziness and the uncontrollable shaking of his limbs. Completely bypassing his phone on the bed and his duffle bag on the floor beside the door, Stiles made his way through the apartment with delirious determination. Reaching for the handle of the front door Stiles froze as it swung open, revealing Nick’s face beaming at him from the other side. 

The whispers stopped in an instant, the pain in his head ceasing as the thick fog clouding his brain like a blanket lifted. 

Blinking rapidly Stiles gave Nick a sheepish grin as the older man’s smile dropped from his face, deep concern taking its place as he took in the state Stiles was in. “Love! What happened?” Nick exclaimed crossing the threshold in a split second and gripping Stiles’ chin with his fingers. “I’m okay Nick! It’s just a silly little nosebleed” Stiles soothed with a gentle laugh, trying to dispel his boyfriends' worry. Blue eyes narrowed in suspicion and Stiles’ heart skipped a beat nervously at the attention, a shiver dancing down his spine. 

“I had such lovely plans for us this evening, but if you’re not feeling well we’d best just stay in” Nick admitted in slight disappointment, his thumb rubbing at the skin underneath Stiles’ bottom lip. Shaking his head vehemently Stiles plastered on the most convincing smile he could muster, the urge to soothe Nick’s disappointment overwhelming the lingering unease at his manic episode. “No! No! I swear, I’m okay Nick. Don’t cancel the plans, please?”. Nick pursed his lips in consideration before nodding in agreement “alright, but the first sign of you feeling unwell and we come back home, am I clear?”. 

Stiles grinned “crystal!”

 

~#~#~#~#~ Derek’s POV

 

There were no words to describe the type of anger Derek felt after finally managing to pry himself out of that damn seat in the cafe, no words. At least when Stiles’ stuck him in place with magic it didn’t last for over a fucking HOUR!

Slamming the Camaro door shut Derek strode angrily into the veterinary clinic, completely bypassing the slightly startled people and animals occupying the waiting area to make his way into the examination room. Striding into the room Derek closed the door loudly behind him as he growled at the vet who watched his actions with an unimpressed raise of the brow “I need you to tell me how to kill this warlock, and I need you to tell me now!”. 

Huffing at Derek’s attitude Deaton crossed his arms, the white rabbit on the metal table blinking its large red eyes and twitching its little pink nose “supernatural consultations are for outside of office hours, Derek. You know this”. Lip curling dangerously Derek clenched his fists to stop himself from wrapping his hands around the emissaries neck. “Fuck your policies, Deaton! This is Stiles’ we’re talking about, and I’ve just had to sit bound to a chair whilst that disgusting piece of shit boasted about committing statutory rape!”. 

Realization seemed to dawn upon the older man and he nodded slowly, his previously defensive posture dropping to a softer stance as his arms uncrossed “ah, I see now… this is personal for you, isn’t it Derek?”. Flinching back violently as if the words had slapped him in the face, Derek scowled darkly at the vet “what do you mean? Of course it’s personal, Stiles is pack”. Giving Derek a gentle look of disbelief Deaton shook his head “it’s personal because of Kate. Because what she did to you, is exactly what Nick is doing to Stiles. Lying, manipulating.. using”. Pursing his lips into an angry stubborn line Derek averted his eyes from Deaton’s as the vet continued speaking “it’s personal because you know what Stiles is going through, and you know how much it’s going to hurt him when it’s revealed what Nick is”. 

Striding forward Deaton calmly placed his hand on Derek’s shoulder and squeezed in an effort to provide comfort to the alpha “it’s okay to want to save Stiles, but what isn’t okay is you getting yourself killed by being stupid and taking on Nick by yourself”. Shrugging Deaton’s hand off his shoulder Derek took a step back and sneered “then what do you suggest we do? Cause unlike you, I’m not a fan of sitting around and doing nothing whilst Stiles is in danger”. 

Raising a brow at Derek’s snarky comment Deaton began walking back to the rabbit on the table, reaching out to calmly stroke it’s head and long floppy ears “I close at 6:30, come back then and I’ll explain the plan”. Shaking his head Derek jabbed a finger in the vets direction “no, we do it at the Sheriff’s house. Stiles is his son, he deserves to be included in this”. 

Sighing slightly Deaton considered the condition before conceding “alright, I’ll lock up and meet you at the Sheriff’s house”. Derek huffed with a sharp nod before turning on his heel and leaving the room, intent on heading back to the loft before going to the Sheriff’s to check on the older man and to see how the search for Stiles was going.

\--- time skip ---

Sitting across from a haggard looking Sheriff, Derek reconsidered his previous decision to not mention the little meeting he had with Nick. The older man looked so worn down and honestly? Derek couldn’t blame him, it hadn’t even been 24 hours and the search for Stiles was already looking bleak, the CCTV footage of the bus station not turning up anything of evidential value and the Amber Alert garnering no reported sightings of yet. 

It was like Stiles had disappeared off the face of the earth. And if the power that Nick showed in the cafe was anything to go by, Derek wouldn’t be surprised if the warlock had something to do with the teens remarkable ability to remain unseen. 

“No offense sir, but you don’t look like you got much sleep last night” Derek remarked gripping the cup of half drunk coffee tightly as he and the Sheriff waited for Deaton to arrive at the Stilinski household. Huffing in tired amusement the older man shook his head and gave a wry smile, vaguely indicating to Derek’s own rather exhausted looking state “could say the same thing about you, son”. 

Smirking Derek raised the cup to his lips “fair enough”. A beat of comfortable silence passed between the two before the Sheriff spoke up again, a tentative hopefulness in his voice “so... do you really think Dr. Deaton has a plan to save Stiles?”. Gazing into the dark contents of his cup Derek sighed before deciding to give the Sheriff his honest opinion, the older man deserved his honesty on this, if nothing else. 

“Truthfully? I’m .. I’m not sure” pausing Derek gathered his thoughts to try to explain himself better his fingers tapping against the side of the coffee mug. “My mom, she always used to remind me that druids, no matter how helpful they were to our kind, have their own agenda that comes before everything. And that agenda? Is maintaining the balance. Even if it means betraying people, and keeping secrets or letting innocent people die all in the name the greater good”. 

Slamming his mug against the bench in anger the Sheriff narrowed his eyes at Derek “my son is not dying for no greater good bullshit!!!”. Gripping his own mug tightly Derek stared at the Sheriff with a powerful intensity, pouring all of his sincerity into his words “I swear to you Mr. Stilinski, right here, right now, that I will never, ever let Stiles die”. Blinking rapidly the Sheriff inhaled sharply through his nose and Derek noted with silent astonishment that he could smell the faint salty scent of tears in the air. The older man seemed touched by the Alpha’s sincere pledge to keep his son alive at all costs and Derek didn’t quite know how to react. 

Clearing his throat the Sheriff opened his mouth to begin speaking, only for the abrupt shrill of the doorbell to interrupt him. Placing his cup to the side Derek jabbed his thumb towards the direction of the front door “I’ll.. just… go get that. It’s probably Deaton”. Escaping the kitchen with quick strides Derek made his way to the door yanking it open eagerly, already impatient enough from having to wait as long as he has. 

Freezing in place Derek cast a confused and slightly suspicious glance at the space behind Deaton’s shoulder, or more accurately, at the stranger who stood there. 

“Derek, meet Tobias. He’s here to help kill Nick”.


	33. chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets some interesting new people and the Sheriff is forced into a difficult position

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *emerges from the ether* HULLOOO!! enjoy the new chapter, not going to blab on about excuses and shit of why updates are so slow lately because you've probably got the gist of it already. But hey, at least it's a long update :P

~#~#~#~#~ Stiles’ POV

 

Staring down at the dancefloor Stiles tilted his head, bottle of beer in one hand as he took in the comfortingly familiar sight of a mass of faceless bodies writhing on the large dance floor, bathed head to toe in crimson from the deep red lighting. 

He’d missed this, the mindless thump of the music vibrating through his bones, the pulsating rhythm of the lights flashing in sync with his heartbeat. 

Why did he stop coming again?

“Enjoying the scenery from above, love?”

Oh, that was right. Nick.

Smiling widely Stiles leaned back as Nick wound his arms around the teen’s midsection and perched his chin ontop the slope of his shoulder. “It’s great.. I just, I don’t know why you never told me you owned the club we met in” Stiles admitted slightly bitterly, earning a soft sigh from the older man, warm breath penetrating through his shirt and seeping into his skin.

“I didn’t want to intimidate you any more than you already were, you pretty much freaked out at the apartment when you realized I was kind of rich… I didn’t want to scare you off by coming across as some sort of business tycoon” Nick explained gently. Letting out a laugh Stiles nodded “alright, yeah. I probably would have been pretty intimidated by that”. Giving the teen a gentle little squeeze Nick cooed into Stiles’ ear “see! now, come through to the lounge. I’ve got some people I want you to meet”. 

Letting out a nervous breath Stiles took a large swig of beer to try and strengthen himself for meeting Nick’s friends, gosh he was so nervous about making a good impression. Threading his fingers with Nick’s Stiles let the older man tug him through the heavy velvet curtains which separated the little balcony area from the private lounge area. One hand clutching Nick’s, the other clutching the neck of the half-empty beer bottle Stiles plastered a shy smile on his face as his boyfriend eagerly introduced him to the six individuals spread out across the circular sectional sofa. Twelve pairs of eyes trained on him like a burning spotlight. 

“Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Stiles”

Lifting the hand with the beer bottle still in its grasp Stiles gave a meek little wave “hey”. 

A chorus of greetings echoed back to him in various stages of enthusiasm, one particularly enthusiastic hello coming from a small blonde haired girl with big brown eyes dressed in a black lace tea dress. The girl eagerly patted the empty space beside her and Nick lead him confidently over to it, pushing Stiles gently into the seat and taking up position on his left. 

The girl was even more doll-like up close, bright red lipstick that would make Lydia jealous and loosely curled white blonde hair cut choppily to her jawline. Blinking, startled as a pair of delicate hands cupped either side of his face, Stiles gave a nervous chuckle as the girl hummed and haa’d whilst inspecting his features with a cheerful intensity. 

“Hmm yes! I can see exactly why Nick likes you! You’re such a special little thing, aren’t you Stiles?” she chirped giving his cheeks a little pat before introducing herself without any further explanation for her actions. “I’m Prudence, but you can call me Prue! Nick has told us all so much about you! He’s quite smitten you know” giving a little cheeky wink to Nick who simply laughed heartily. 

“Obsessed is the word most would use” a cold sneer chimed in from the other end of the sofa, sourced from a rather sour-faced looking woman with shockingly bright curly red hair dressed in a tight sparkling green mini dress. Taken back by the attitude Stiles faltered long enough that Prudence stepped in, throwing a glare towards the other woman “envy is a horribly unattractive emotion on you, Rebecca”. Turning her attention back to Stiles, Prue patted his knee gently “don’t mind her, she’s just bitter because Nick doesn’t need her to warm his bed anymore”. 

Mouth forming a small o shape, Stiles addressed Nick who didn’t seem that all bothered by the exchange. Perhaps he thought it would go worse than it was? “you and Rebecca??” Stiles questioned his neck flushing in embarrassment at the pang of hurt that shot through his stomach at the thought. Flashing Stiles a warm reassuring smile Nick pressed his lips against the teen’s temple “don’t worry love, it never meant anything. Not like you”. Soothed by Nick’s reassurances Stiles relaxed again, noting with amusement how saddened Rebecca looked at his boyfriend’s dismissive words. 

Seemingly desperate to move past the awkward exchange and brighten the mood once again, Prudence started to introduce each of the other five individuals on the sofa pointing them out for Stiles. 

“Now! Sitting beside Rebecca, looking like he would rather be anywhere else but here is lovely Jasper. He built like a beast but trust me, he’s just a big old teddy bear!” the burly man rolled his eyes at Prue’s words but gave Stiles a friendly nod. Then realization dawned on him “I remember you, you work at the bar right? You’ve served me a few times”. 

Jasper chuckled indicating to the bottle in Stiles’ hand “I see you’re still drinking that cheap shit. I keep trying to convince Nicholas to stop serving it, but it's too popular, seems like none of you Americans have good taste”. Laughing Stiles shrugged a shoulder “I can’t argue with that”. 

Prue grinned and moved on to the male and female pair sitting beside Jasper conversing between themselves, their beautifully tanned skin and sharp Italian features making them seem more suited for a high fashion magazine rather than regular life. “Next are the twins Luca and Sofia” two pairs of identical sharp apple green eyes flickered towards him as the twins smiled slow and wide, their gaze dragging predator like down Stiles’ frame. “Piacere” they purred in unison and Stiles gaped at them, both confused and highly intimidated before almost jumping out of his skin as Nick whispered helpfully in his ear “they’re saying pleased to meet you”. Clearing his throat in embarrassment Stiles quickly smiled at the twins and repeated the word back in a more stilted manner, the unfamiliar language falling out of his lips clumsily compared to their graceful tones. 

The twins giggled good-naturedly at his attempt before going back to their conversation with each other, leaving Prue to introduce the last person on the couch with an extra flourish. The guy initially reminded Stiles of Isaac, with his slim but well-built frame dressed in a black turtleneck, and thick curly brown hair perched on top of a pretty angular face reminiscent of one of Michelangelo's famous statues. “And this is my partner, Simon”. Placing his beer bottle on the sleek looking table in front of him, Stiles reached out his hand towards Simon who looked a lot more approachable than any of the others, flashing a grin “nice to meet you dude”. Simon smiled widely in return and shook Stiles’ hand, a thick Australian accent clinging to his words like sticky syrup as he spoke “you too, mate”. 

A buzzing noise caught Stiles’ attention and he turned towards Nick who was giving his phone a frustrated look, clearly torn between wanting to answer it and not wanting to seem rude. Nudging his boyfriend with his shoulder Stiles gave Nick a reassuring smile “go answer it, I’ll be fine with your friends”. Pressing a fleeting kiss to Stiles’ cheek Nick swept his way out of the room back through the curtain, his unimpressed voice flowing behind him “yes I’m here! is this important Tobias? I’m busy”. 

Tobias…

Scrunching up his face tightly at the sharp pain which pierced through his head when hearing the strangely familiar name, Stiles turned towards Prue “who's Tobias?”. Prue rolled her eyes in disdain as Simon snorted before responding with a scowl “a right bastard that's who. Don't have any clue why Nick puts up with him. Guess he must be useful for something though, Nicholas isn't one for keeping people around for the sake of it”. Licking his bottom lip slowly in consideration, Stiles felt his gaze draw itself naturally back towards the curtain an unsure mumble passing through his lips as the pain in his head increased and the whispering came back tenfold.

“I think….I think I've met him before” 

 

~#~#~#~#~ John's POV 

 

Sitting there, listening as some stranger talked about the man his son was with, the monster his son was with, was painful, to say the least. One part of him wanted to yell, another part of him just wanted to sit and cry, cry about how helpless he felt against the supernatural being stealing his son away from him. And then the stranger said the single worst idea John had heard since Stiles told him about his sacrifice to find the nemeton. 

“What the hell do you mean we need to wait until Saturday night to save my son!!” John clenched his fists tightly, resisting the very strong urge to punch the man occupying his sofa with an understandingly solemn expression. “Sher-” Deaton began to speak but John cut him off, holding up his hand with a snarl “no! You do not get to tell me what to do in this situation! NOT NOW! Not when this stranger is coming into MY home and telling me to leave MY son in the hands of a psychopath for another 48 hours. A psychopath who, may I remind you, we have just been told, wants to bind himself to my son’s fucking SOUL! like some sort of fucked up nonconsensual form of magical marriage!”. Dead silence echoed throughout the living room and John was pleased to note that both of the older men situated in front of him had the decency to look contrite. 

A strong hand fell on his shoulder and John took solace in the knowledge that Derek Hale seemed to be on his side in the midst of this madness. His fondness for the alpha only grew when he began to speak, his voice firm and accusing towards the vet and his mysterious companion.

“How do we know this isn't a trick? That this isn't just some big plan by that piece of shit Warlock to distract us from saving Stiles. It just seems really convenient that as soon as we start looking for ways to kill Nick this guy lands practically gift wrapped in our laps” Derek pointed out justly as John nodded firmly in agreement, it was incredibly suspicious timing and it didn't sit right with his Sheriff instincts either. 

The guy sighed “look I don't expect you to trust me straight away but-”. “But what?! You just admitted yourself that the man has some kind of blood curse on you so you have to do his bidding! How can we honestly know that any of this is genuine? How can you expect me to trust Stiles’ life with some stranger I've never even met” John interrupted with a harsh mocking laugh and Derek's hand tightened on his shoulder in a small comforting squeeze. 

The stranger just smiled sadly in reply “you know...Stiles is really lucky he has people who care so much about him, and I know it's hard, but you have to trust me on this, or at least hear me out. The Alpha can even listen to my heartbeat if it makes you feel any better, he'll know if I'm lying”. Glancing at Derek out of the corner of his eye, John sighed reluctantly before relenting on his stance as the werewolf gave a nod in agreement, “fine”. 

“The reason why you need to wait until Saturday night is because that is when Nick will be at his weakest. Right now, no one stands a chance against him thanks to nearly 1000 years of siphoning magic. But a big forbidden ritual like that? It takes energy and concentration, so much in fact, that they are usually performed by multiple beings. Keyword there is usually, cause I know Nick, I've known him for over 150 years, and he's as arrogant as they come. There's no way in hell he's going to let the coven partake in the ritual, so his only option is to go solo and you need to use that to your advantage. I can get you to the exact place you need to be, all you have to do is wait until Nick starts the ritual and kill him by any means necessary”. 

Objectively John could understand the logic behind what the stranger was saying. But this was his son, his little mischief! And he couldn't be objective when it came to his safety. So when he looked at Derek, John really hoped that the Alpha would say the man was lying. 

He didn't. 

“He's telling the truth” Derek grunted with obvious displeasure and John's heart sank into his stomach. Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply John steeled himself once again, his arms crossing against his chest in a vain attempt to hold himself together as he accepted the bleakness of the situation at hand. Opening his eyes back up John raised his chin and leveled the stranger with a firm look of determination. 

“Alright then. Tell us what to do” 

 

~#~#~#~#~ Tobias’ POV

 

Sitting on the edge of the creaking and musty bed, Tobias let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping in guilt as he made himself comfortable in a small rundown motel located just on the outskirts of Beacon Hills. Dirty yellow lighting cast stretching shadows against the ugly and washed out flowered wallpaper decorating the room, and Tobias suddenly felt his true age hit him like a ton of bricks. 

God, he hoped he’d done enough.

Pulling out his phone Tobias dialed the only number in his contact list, pressing the device to his ear with a strained expression. And after a long delay in which Tobias spent agonizing over each painful echo of the ringback tone, the caller finally picked up. 

“Nick?” Tobias asked hesitantly, knowing that the Warlock was currently with his coven and that it was highly possible that one of them, most likely Pru since Nick liked her the best, might have picked up the phone if the aforementioned man was occupied. “Yes I’m here! is this important Tobias? I’m busy” the familiar British voice snapped at him impatiently from the other end and Tobias rolled his eyes, suddenly feeling very tempted to just hang up on the other man. He ignored the temptation, however, the muscles around his neck aching in a subconscious response to the memory of the previous night. 

“I did what you asked, the Alpha has the information and he’ll be there Saturday night”

Nick’s responding laugh caused a shiver to dance down Tobias’ spine and another wave of guilt to batter against his weary soul. 

“Fantastic! You know... after all of this is over, I won’t have any use for you anymore, I might even finally set you free from your oath of servitude”. Blinking back bitter tears Tobias shook his head with a rueful smile “don’t make promises you won’t keep Nicholas”. The Warlock hummed in obvious amusement “you’re probably right, don’t want to get your little human hopes up only for me to crush them... again”. Gritting his teeth Tobias quickly decided to change the subject before Nick made him say something he would later be forced to regret “why do you want the werewolf there anyways?”. 

Nick laughed again. 

“Well, what better way is there to test out a new soul bond then to make dear sweet Stiles kill his little werewolf friend?”


	34. chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles breaks through and Nick proves himself, once again to be the darkest man the teen has had the misfortune of crossing paths with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HARK! I HERE THEE CRY!!! A NEW CHAPTER :O not long leeeeeefttt :P *cackles* I'm actually dying to get to the juicy sequel

~#~#~#~#~ Stiles’ POV

 

Prue exchanged a look with Simon at the teens' hesitant declaration, but Stiles barely noticed, his mind too wrapped up in fuzzy chunks of memory that didn’t match. His brow furrowing deeply as he tried to concentrate on separating the overlapping words and images superimposing over each other. Two different sets of memories, both competing for space at the forefront of his mind and making his skull three sizes too small. 

A familiar pain appeared behind his eyes for the second time that day and Stiles had to squeeze them shut once more. Pulse throbbing in his ears and stomach-churning dangerously he stumbled to his feet, his lower legs banging against the table in his haste to move, to escape. 

“Stiles!!” Prue and Simon’s simultaneous exclamation of concern caused the pain to increase and Stiles actually felt himself retch as his nausea reached new levels of intensity. Peeling his eyes partly open he made his way frantically towards the curtain, clumsily smacking away the grasping hands away reaching for him. Feet tripping over one another Stiles swallowed thickly to avoid spilling the contents of his stomach all over the insanely expensive furniture and fell through the fabric partition.

Mind so hyper-focused on simply getting the fuck out of the club, Stiles failed to acknowledge Nicholas on the balcony before rushing down the stairs and out of an emergency exit on the ground floor. Reaching out blindly to steady himself against the cool brick exterior of the building, Stiles bent down and vomited violently onto the damp ground his eyes screwed shut as his whole body shuddered with the force of each retch. 

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“̸̡̡̩̼̫̫͂̇̉̄̀̅Y̶͓͍͉̤̦̘̱̿̈́̿̓̂͊͢ǫ͎̱̦̟̖͕̔̇̿͋͛͢u̬̤̼͈̻̜̿̌̂̈̈̚ l̵̢͉̟̪͎͎̋̀͂̕͘͢͢ó̵̡̳͙͚̠͖̱̖̚͟͞͞͡o̢̡̹̠̮̰̪̯͂͛̊̄͊̄̂͟͝k͍̼͙̦̤͇̤͇̞͌̎͊͂͜i̡͔̗͈͔̬̮̿̋͐̾͐̃̿̒̐̄n̡̫̳̻̠̤͙̟̪̊̿͛͑͜͡͠ṇ̴̘͙̝͙͈̂͂͛͐͂̒̔̚͠͝ĝ̩̪̠̦̲̾̋̍̊͆̋̇͒̚ f̴̢̛͓̭̱̞̐͌̌̒ơ̸̭͍͖̣̲̬͇̒̒̔̽͒̓͘͝r̶̨̬͍̟̣͎͖̗̯̄̔͌͑̓̈́̂̈͜͡ N͉̲̞͚̮͓̖͋͛̔̾̓̏̿͊̓̚i̡͔̬̪͖̞̜̋͂̍̓̽͋͝͝c̡̢͕͙͉͆͋̊͂̏͑͋̕h̵͚̤̯̝̩̘̏͋̏̍̓̅͗͘o͕͈͍͙̠͎̒̂͂͂͞l̨͉̲͖̞̼͕̝̳͆̆̍̓̐̓͜ä̸̠̞͍̭̹͔͈́́͊́͘͜s̶͙͖̩͔̞͚̫̔͆͑̐͆̊̚͜͡͝ k̡̫̠̝͉̜͖̞͆͋̈́͑̓̀͢i̴̛̙͚̭̦̞̖̓̑̇̽͘͢͢d̡̠̟̻̠͌͊̓́̏̾̈d̹̣̞̼̜͓̿͒̅̊͒̐̀̉o͔͕̖̜̦̾́̍̊̎̅͘͘̕͘͢͟ͅ?͍̻̹̠̤̙̗͖̥̗͑͒̎͒̑̂̕”̵̫̱̥̟̩̯͇̼͙̮͊̿͒͊

 

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“̧̛͙̲͓̥̥̻̌̏̃̊͢͡ͅT̸̡̛͇̝̝̭̩̞̋̈́̂̇̏̐͜ȯ͓̯̘͉̟̬̒̐̆̄̈́̀̊͟͝b̵̢̜̗̥̦̠̅͑̆̏̀͝ͅi̯͈̭̤͑͊̔̓͗͢͝á̛̰͔̗̜̙͉̦̋́̎͐͛͞s̖̪̼͚̦͕͉̭̮͋̅͐̀̒̉̀̚͜,̶͇̭̗͓̤̰͕̩͊͑̃̕͠ y̛̤̥̹͚͍͒̈̎͘ǫ̛̯͓̹̙̫̲̂̄̈́̇̔͢ũ̴̪̹̤̝̖̊̃͆̈̇͊͟͢ c̶̨̨͔͈͖̫̤̣̀̅͑̊͗̑ȁ̶̦͇̬̬̻͎͈̻̓̏̒͒̆͞ͅn̸̡̧̘͖͔̰̘̤͆͗͊̎̆͝ c̢̨͕͇̖̝̎͑̈͒̈̈͟ȁ̷̪̰̟̞̳̫̌͊̐͂l̩̞̘̪͇̖̖͉̪̎͂̓̂̏̒ĺ̛̰̘͉̭̌̓̋͂̈́̽͡ͅ m̷̲͈̥̪̜̔̉̿͑̈́͂͢ê͕̗̣̖̜̍̈̓́̅͋͠ͅ T̡͖͙̙͎̞͓̙̤̿̐̐̚͟͠o̶̧̢̹̖̗̗͕̦̿̊͊͆̚̕̕͞b͉̯̣̥̞̽͂̉̉̐̈́̐i̵̤̬̲̗̲̠̻̮͙̋̐̒̕͝à̷̧̮̞̝̝͋͊̿̌̇̿́͜͡s̵̳̼͖̳͉̹̀̔́͆̀̄͑̑͑͘͜,̡̡̛̰̟̬̪̤̊͌̏̿͗̋̔͜͡͠ͅ k̨̢̗̫̠͖̘̺̉̏̋̓͗͆̌̐̀͟͞ḯ̴̧͓̩̜̥͕̫̹͗̆̂̿̔͢d̷̮̙̣̰̮̒̎̍̆͂͐̚̕̚”̴̛̗̲̮̰̙̟̑̆̇̈̆̕͢

 

.  
.  
"̴̡̗͕͈̫̱͙͈̱̅͌͛̽̈̓̒͂͡t̨̯̞̘̣͕̟̿̂̑̐͋̊̊͘h̷̬̦̦͍̎͛͗̄̊̔͊͟è̤̯̹̱̖̀̽̆͗͛͢ N̡̨̡̥̘̭͙̙̊̇̈́͑̆͐͞i̷̟̝̫͍̞͒̃͐̎̕ͅc̶̛̠̯̙̤͕̋̀͑̿͂̔͋̕k̴̝̲̘̝̪̲̓̍̅̔̓̉̅̇͟ͅ y̧̢̛̟͕̫͎̞̪̮̬̽͂͐̽̉̊̇̌̓ǫ̙͍̦̤͗̿̃̓̓̽̽̉̚͘ͅụ͓̥͈̲̯̪̜̆̈́̀̈́̈́̌͞ͅ k̷̨̢͔̜̣̞̪̘͙͆̇̿͛͘n̴̗̫͕̲̘̏̉̂͒͌͠͠o̭͇̻̲̟̬̾̿̓̆̓͞͡͠w̟̹͖̮̮̗͙̍̑̊̽̀̍̆̋͞ i̝͈̟̞͒̎͂̄̾̓̈͜͡ş͉̺͔̞̝̔͋́͑̔̃͌͂̇ a̷̢̞͓̜͐͂̆͊̊͌͌͋͆͟ f̤̗̼̖̣͗͗͌̒̇͋̐͘͜͞ȗ̢̲̦͔͈̘̗̜̞͉̎̐́̉͌̐ć̷͍̦̯͚̲̰̿̈́͑͑͠k̨̡̲̮̩̟̭̿̑̂̏̇̈́̇͑͘ͅi̧̥͍̗̣̥̜̐̔̃̅̂̽̉n̛̥͇͉̰̝̠̻̦̋̈̃͢͝g̸͍̞̮̹͇̝̺̙̤̀̅̂͑̄͐̽̏̚͢ l̛̯̮͖̭͚͎̣̯͇̊͗͐͞ͅï̟͙͖͕̽͗̇̅̿̐̾͢͜͠͠é̢̢̗̺͙͌͗͌̑̈̌̒͠"̮̞͍͇͗̃̅̌̋̎̀͜͡  
̵̨̡̘̝͍͕̗̪̞̃̋̽̏̒  
̶̙̩͇͓͕͚͋̌̾̂̂̌̽̂̓̕ͅͅ  
̻̠̩̲͙̪̟̙̣͌̓͊̀̒͐̈̚͡  
̡̻̱̝͉̫͖̥̰̊̾̉́̄̂̈́͝"̱̮̙͙̝̙̪͚̣͌̃̈́̍̌̕͝ͅH̗̭̮̭̜̳̗̩̦̾̔̉͋͡ę̸̛̝̣̥̦̫͉͉̗͗̑͊̅̈́͟’̙̙̦̣̘͊̋͘̕͡ͅs̛̳̞͖̱̟̤̈̅͐̓͡͡ d̪̺͈̀̔͂͌̐̇͢͢͠͠ͅa̴̦͉̝͇̰͑̉͆̇̾̊͑̓͢ͅṉ̸͕͎͇̼̜̗̠̳̏̅͗̾̄̓̕ǵ̠̯̤̤͎̀̄͊͌͛̆͘e̸̛͖̼̯͈͚̯͎̍̉̑̔̌̈̒͜͝r̸̳̭͓͎̮͔͛͌̈͋͑͐͝ô͓̩̘͍̭̙̅̅͆̓̎̏̿͠ư̧͚̗͕̜͎̇̓̋̽͆̅̕̕͜s̸͚͍̰̤̦̼͉͖͑̀̈́͆͐̊̇̌͆͝ͅ"̛̘̱͔͓͚̤̠̫̆͑̉̄͛̓  
.

He could picture the man named Tobias in his mind so clearly, and could even hear his voice echoing around in his head as the older man let him into his boyfriend's’ apartment, could taste the whiskey on his tongue and remember the scathing words said. He could remember finding… a file… a file about someone, a file..about ….Derek?

But… but that didn’t happen… Stiles never met him… did he??

No. 

Did he? 

The more he found himself questioning his own memories, the more the pain in his skull increased towards a brutal type of agony that Stiles had never experienced before. Something was wrong, seriously wrong, but all the teen could do was brace himself as another wave of nausea hit, sending him crashing to his knees with a pathetic moan. Sweat gathered rapidly across his brow and at the nape of his neck as a burning heat spread through his body like a wildfire. 

Belatedly, Stiles began to register the feeling of strong hands looping around his waist, tugging him gently up from the ground and turning him around so he stood chest flushed against a sturdy and warm surface. Peeling open his eyelids felt like fighting against every single cell in his body but Stiles managed it, and after a few disorientating seconds where his vision doubled and the edges darkened Stiles could make out the face of the person holding him. 

Nick.

Whining low in his throat Stiles tried to wiggle his way out Nick’s grip, his brain still reeling from the onslaught of memories that seemed to go against everything he thought he knew. But somehow, … somehow Stiles knew that the memories were right, were more real than the fuzzy recollection of a panic attack that seemed more and more fake with each passing second. 

“Stiles? Stiles... Sweetheart, talk to me. You’re scaring me, love, what’s wrong?” the concerned dulcet tone of Nick’s voice finally began to seep through the incessant ringing in Stiles’ ears and his heart began to flutter with fear. 

Nick did this to him. 

Nick hurt him, made him forget.   
He lied.  
Lied!  
Lied!!  
LIED!!!

Tears springing forth Stiles renewed his efforts to fight his way out of Nick’s grip, although his frantic attempts proved futile, his body still weak and shaking from the vomiting. 

“Y-you… lied to me. You made me forget” Stiles whispered betrayed as Nick tilted his head in feigned confusion “sweetheart, you’re delirious. What are you talking about?”. Blinking the tears away in a stubborn attempt to appear less unstable, Stiles shook his head feebly declaring in a childish whine “no... no, I’m not sick, I remember”. His declaration only earned himself a pitying sort of sigh from Nick, who raised both of his hands and cupped Stiles’ face in a bruisingly tight grip disguised as a gentle embrace.

“It’s okay Stiles, I’m going to make this all better” 

“Nononononopleaseno” Stiles finally let the tears fall down his cheeks as Nick just smiled sweetly, leaning forward and pressing his lips against the teen's forehead.

And then everything went black.

 

~#~#~#~#~ Nick’s POV

 

Honestly, Nick didn’t know whether he should be frustrated or impressed at how fast Stiles’ mind broke through his spell to unlock the original memory, on one hand, it set him back once again on his plans, but on the other..it really was a magnificent display of mental prowess. 

Clearly, he had greatly underestimated his little Spark’s ability.

Humbled but amused by his little revelation Nick swept Stiles up into his arms bridal style, turning on his heel to face his coven who watched the interaction with his boy with a mixture of true concern and morbid interest. Prue, in particular displaying distress at the state of Stiles, not that he could blame her, Stiles did have a rather enchantingly doe-like innocence about him. 

“Sorry folks, it seems like the guest of honor has a touch of food poisoning. I’m afraid I’ll have to cut our night short and take him home to rest” Nick began making his way down the alley, pausing slightly in front of Prue with a polite smile and soft request. “Prudence, would you be a dear and help me with the car?” Prue nodded eagerly, and Nick was reminded once more why she was his favorite coven member.

It didn't take long for the trio to arrive at where Nick had parked his car, and soon enough Stiles was buckled safely into the back seat with Nick’s expensive jacket draped gently over his upper body. Closing the door Nick sighed at the sound of Prue's tentative voice echoing from behind, stating the obvious and making him reconsider his previous declaration of favoritism “Nick.. we both know what's wrong with Stiles had nothing to do with food poisoning, don't we?”. Raising a sardonic brow Nick crossed his arms as he faced the small blonde “I know an adverse reaction to black magic when I see it, Prudence! I didn’t gain the title of Supreme Warlock with just my good looks, although I’m sure it was a contributing factor”. 

Prudence at least, had the sense to look apologetic for even suggesting otherwise and for a second Nick was certain the conversation was over and he was free to go and take care of Stiles, his hopes were dashed however when Prue gently placed her hand on his upper arm and squeezed, her voice soft and sorrowful. 

“I still remember Theodosia you know”

Sucking in a sharp breath Nick quickly worked to reign in the spike of sadness and anger which laced through his heart at the sound of her name. The name of his last beloved. Face struggling to remain as stoic as he would like, Nick leveled Prue with a cold glare, his jaw clenching “your point being?”. Giving Nick a knowing look she dropped her hand from his arm “my point is, I remember what losing her did to you. Her suicide... broke you. Me, and the others we just don’t want to see you get hurt like that again”. 

Letting out an abrupt laugh Nick gave a vicious smile “oh I’m sure Rebecca wouldn’t mind picking up the pieces so much”. Rolling her eyes Prue snorted “Rebecca is a manipulative slut and she’s always going to be pissed you didn’t pick her as your bond-partner”. Shrugging as if to say fair enough, Nick pushed himself up from his position leaning on the side of the car “now, if that’s all you wanted to say… I’d like to return home with Stiles”. 

Prue wrapped her arms around herself and began to back away, her soft sincere words following her in the form of a white frosted mist in the air “goodnight Nick, take care of yourself….and Stiles”. Grunting in response Nick slid into the driver's seat, closing the door behind him with a loud click. Letting out a large sigh Nick adjusted his mirror so it gave him a perfect view of Stiles’ sleeping form, a reassuring smile stretching across his face as he spoke into the silence as if Stiles could hear him.

“Don’t worry my love, Theodosia was weak-willed and she proved herself unworthy of my love when she tried to take her own life. I granted her request for death, but I will not make the same mistakes again. Tomorrow night, we shall be bonded mind, body and finally, soul. Where not even death shall do us part”.


	35. chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday night draws close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUU HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUU!!! oh wait, it's my birthday :P Meh, whatever :D here's the next chapter. Only 2 more left after this, although the 2nd is going to be more of an epilogue that sets up the sequel :D

~#~#~#~#~ Derek’s POV

 

“Look! All I’m saying is that maybe you should actually CONSIDER letting us come with you to face this guy!! I mean, we’re your pack, right? And packs are stronger together!!” Scott argued loudly, throwing his hands out in frustration. The rest of the pack hummed loudly in agreement and Derek sighed, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to drive away the headache that only teenagers could cause. 

Specifically, the teenagers in his pack. 

Releasing the bridge of his nose, Derek leveled a stern and vibrantly red gaze at the defiant beta. “For the last time Scott, you and the others are not coming with me and the Sheriff tonight and that is final. Hell, the only reason the Sheriff is even coming in the first place is because he threatened to have me arrested and put in a cell overnight to fight Nick himself”. Scott’s previously angrily twisting features twitched with the hint of a smile, amused with the knowledge that the Stilinski patriarch was keeping the alpha in line. 

Derek counted his blessing that Scott was so easily distracted, and then Lydia piped up, her arms crossed and painted lips pulled into a scowl. “What are we supposed to do then Derek?? Because you wouldn’t let us help search for Stiles! And now you’re saying we can’t help get him back? Are we just supposed to sit around and wait for you and the Sheriff to fix everything?”. 

Derek shrugged a shoulder and replied as bluntly as he could “basically, yeah”. Blinking Lydia furrowed her brows petulantly at the Alpha’s tone, her leather booted foot stomping a bit on the floor “well that’s not fair!”. Gritting his teeth together Derek briefly considered biting his tongue and not responding to the younger woman’s outburst, but his own frustration at the situation had reached its limits and unfortunately for the pack, they were in the firing line. 

Crossing his own arms to match Lydia’s posture, Derek cast a cold stare across the lofts occupants. “You wanna know what's not fair Lydia? hmm? What's not fair, is how you all call yourselves Stiles’ friends, but the only reason you want to help now is because you're trying to soothe your own guilty conscious. Well, guess what! Life doesn't work like that, and you don't get to use this as an opportunity to make yourselves feel better. This is about Stiles, this is about saving him and getting him the help he needs. And if, after all of that he wants any of you in his life again, then that's his choice to make. Not mine, and certainly not yours”. 

A stunned silence echoed in response to his brutally truthful words and for once, Derek began to feel that his words finally made an impact on the selfish members of his pack. Strangely enough, it was Allison who spoke up her fingers entwined tightly with Isaac’s (okay, did all of his beta’s have a thing for hunters??) whilst Lydia and Scott remained uncharacteristically silent. 

“Derek’s right. Stiles doesn’t owe us anything, especially not after the way we’ve acted towards him. If we go with Derek and the Sheriff, Stiles is going to feel like he owes us for helping save him, and he’s going to force himself to forgive us because of that. He needs to forgive us because he wants to, not because we’re forcing it on him”. 

Huffing out a small relieved breath at the sense that was coming out of the female hunter's mouth, Derek waited for an inevitable round of protests from Lydia and Scott but found himself pleasantly surprised when they only nodded in defeat. Straightening his shoulders Derek inclined his head towards Allison gratefully “now that that’s settled, you can all go home and I’ll send a group text to inform you when Stiles is safe”. 

The teens mumbled their reluctant goodbyes and shuffled out of the loft one by one until Derek was left alone once again. And as the resounding sound of the heavy door finally sliding closed echoed throughout the loft, Derek let his shoulders drop and his eyes shut as he exhaled deeply before opening them again. 

Almost subconsciously the alpha felt his hand reach towards the back pocket of his jeans where a comforting weight sat securely in the fabric. Dipping his fingers into his pocket, Derek gently tugged the object free, gripping it tightly in his fist. Opening his clenched fingers the alpha bit his bottom lip as he stared pensively at the slowly warming metal cupped gently in his hand, his thumb brushing over the surface of the rustic silver circle attached to a thin black cord. Sitting at approximately 1.5 inches in diameter and only a little bigger in height, the talisman looked for all intents and purposes completely normal, and even Derek found himself unable to imagine how such an insignificant looking accessory could perform the level of protection Deaton claimed it could. The only thing remotely special about it, at least in Derek's opinion, was the familiar design. A thick band of raised metal encircled the edges of the talisman, details etched onto the surface to make the metal resemble the old and knotted bark of a tree, in the middle of the circle, carved in exactly the same manner sat a triskele, its three iconic swirls glinting in the warm golden sunlight that streamed through the windows. 

Releasing his bottom lip from his teeth Derek steeled his features with a burning determination, jaw clenching and nostrils flaring. He was going to get Stiles back tonight, and when he did, he’d give the teen the talisman in person. 

So nothing like this can happen again. 

 

~#~#~#~#~ Nick’s POV

 

Sighing Nick leaned against the doorway to his bedroom, his arms crossed as he leveled a tired look towards the stubborn figure currently sitting tied to the bed, amber eyes flaring with deep-seated anger and hatred. 

“Come on love, you’ve been angry at me for long enough now. I’ve tried to make it up to you, I’ve even explained everything so there are no more secrets between us”. Stiles simply glared harder in response, the black silk material tied tightly between his lips acting as a makeshift gag, preventing the pissed off teen from speaking any words. 

Unimpressed by his boyfriends continued hostility Nick pushed himself forward, approaching Stiles’ bound form in quick measured strides. Realizing Nick was moving closer Stiles flinched before beginning to struggle against the leather cuffs securing him tightly to the bed frame, muffled grunts of frustration slipping past the gag as the bindings remained painfully secure. Rolling his eyes at the reaction Nick gave a huff as he seated himself on the edge of the mattress before addressing the teen point blank, obvious disappointment in his tone “well, now you’re just being childish Stiles”. 

Growling behind the fabric in his mouth Stiles twisted his head away so he didn’t have to look at Nick’s gentle expression. Growing fastly impatient at the younger man’s antics Nick reached out and gripped Stiles’ chin tightly between his forefinger and thumb, tugging the Spark’s face back around to meet his eyes. Amber eyes which burned so brightly and fiercely merely seconds before now glistened with moisture, brows pinching together in an effort not to let any tears slip past and Nick’s heart ached with a deep visceral pain at seeing his beloved so distressed. 

Sighing sympathetically Nick shifted his grip on Stiles’s jaw, dragging his fingers up the soft mole dotted skin of the teen's cheek to cradle the side of his face, the rough surface of his thumb brushing a stray tear away. “I know this is hard for you Stiles, finding out I lied about who and what I am, and finding out I used magic to change some of your memories... But I swear this is all for the best. I just need you to trust me, okay love? Because every single thing I have done, and every single thing I will do for the rest of eternity.. is all for you”. Shaky uncertainty at the honesty of Nick’s words crept into the teen’s gaze, his bottom lip trembling slightly and Nick internally grinned at the vulnerability, convinced he was getting through to Stiles. All he needed to do was drive the message home a little more.

“Think about it logically Stiles! When has ANYBODY ever went to such an effort to take care of you, to love you as much as I do, and pledge to keep you safe? When has somebody risked as much as I have these past few weeks hmm? It certainly couldn’t be any of those so-called friends who abandoned you, and definitely not your own father who, let’s face it, would rather drink or work himself to death than spend even a second with you, his own son”.

Stiles’ gaze lowered in acknowledgment of the painful truth behind what Nick was saying, dark eyelashes blinking stubbornly against a fresh onslaught of tears. Rubbing small soothing circles with his thumb over the arch of Stiles’ cheekbone Nick continued speaking, intensely aware that with every word he said, he was chipping away at the Spark’s resolve. “I don’t expect you to forgive me completely for betraying your trust as I did. But you don’t need to forgive me to know that what I’m saying is true. I love you Mieczyslaw Stilinski, and nobody will ever love you as I do”. 

And just like that, the dam finally broke, Stiles crumpling into himself as he let himself cry. Cooing in comfort Nick shuffled closer, untying the gag with one hand as he pressed the teen’s face into his chest with the other. It was difficult to provide the proper comfort when the younger man was still bound to the bed by his arms and legs, but Nick made do, hushing Stiles and whispering words of consolement. 

“It’s okay love, I’m here. I’ll always be here for you. I promise”

~#~#~#~#~ Stiles’ POV

 

Stiles felt sick. Nothing made sense anymore and everything hurt, his head, the skin underneath the leather cuffs… and his heart. 

He hated Nick for lying to him, for invading his mind and twisting things but… Nick loved him, he said so multiple times in multiple ways and Stiles knew, somehow, deep down he was telling the truth. The things he had said about the pack, about his dad, it hurt. But he wasn’t wrong, he lied about other things, but Nick wasn’t lying about that. 

Resting his head against the headboard in resignation Stiles waited for Nick to come back from preparing a late lunch of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Soon enough, the older man appeared tray in hand with two steaming bowls of rich homemade soup and two plates stacked with golden brown bread and gooey cheese. “You didn’t eat at all yesterday or this morning. So I figured you’d be pretty hungry and made extra grilled cheese” Nick smiled warmly bringing the tray over and placing it on Stiles lap. 

Staring down hungrily at the food Stiles felt his stomach clench with hunger and his mouth water around fabric stretched between his lips, his fingers twitching uselessly at his sides, unable to shove the food in his face as he wanted so desperately to do. 

God, he was starving. 

Giving Stiles a gentle but stern look Nick’s hands hovered teasingly over the cuff tying Stiles’ left hand down. “Now, if I untie this hand and take out the gag to let you eat, do you promise not to try anything silly?”.Taking a few seconds to consider what was being offered, Stiles caved as his stomach gurgled loudly, nodding almost reluctantly in agreement to the conditions Nick set. 

Flashing Stiles a blinding smile Nick gently unloosened the teen’s wrist, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to the reddened and sore skin. 

“Good choice, love”


	36. chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night draws near and so does the final fight for Stiles. Who will win?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *holds hands up* OKAY!! okay, I know I said this would be the final chapter but that's not how things worked out and I didn't want to rush the final fight just to make it all fit into one long-winded chapter. It's probably weird to apologize for writing more content? at least... I feel like it's weird haha :P Most of the time fanfic writers apologize for not writing stuff, but hey-ho I'm a mess and I need constant validation to survive so....
> 
> validate me by enjoying this chapter!! kthnx

~#~#~#~#~ Stiles’ POV

 

Heaving out a soft sigh Stiles stared at the phone turning over and over in his hands, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth as he chewed on the sore flesh in deep consideration. The rhythmic sound of the shower running and the warm puffs of steam curling around him like a soft blanket almost provided the perfect reprieve from his muddled thoughts, almost. Because even after hours had passed since Nick had fully untied him and apologized profusely for his behavior, he still couldn’t bring himself to believe that his boyfriend’s actions didn’t hurt him beyond repair. 

Because they did. They hurt him so much. 

Just the sheer manipulation and betrayal of trust alone that went into magically changing Stiles’ memory was something that ached like a wound across his heart; because Stiles had trusted Nick wholeheartedly, laying himself bare both emotionally and physically for the older man and in return, he’d been deceived. 

God, Nick hadn’t even told him he was magical for fuck’s sake!!!

Then, there was the fact that his so-called boyfriend had kept him tied up in his bedroom for a whole day and a half, most of which Stiles spent in some sort of panicked haze, his brain shutting down in a twisted attempt to block out the reality he was living.

But he couldn’t block it out, not fully.

Just like how he can’t block out the growing doubt he feels right now.

Making up his mind Stiles swiped his thumb across the phone screen, quickly typing in the keycode and unlocking his phone for the first time since arriving at Nick’s apartment early hours Thursday morning. Blinking in surprise Stiles viewed the numerous missed calls and unread texts flashing up on his screen in silence, over 100 missed calls, mostly from his dad, but surprisingly, the rest were from Derek.

Deciding quite quickly that he still wasn't quite ready to hear his dad's voice, Stiles opened up the first of a string of voicemails from Derek, swallowing his guilt down and tentatively pressing play on the first message, sent just ten minutes after he would have stormed out of the loft on Wednesday, before bringing the phone up to his ear. Derek’s familiar gruff voice flowing out from the speaker causing the teen's chest to tighten with a wave of indefinable emotion. 

“Stiles…. I’m-I’m sorry about what I said. I shouldn’t have answered your phone, and I definitely shouldn’t have used your feelings for me as a weapon against you. It was childish and uncalled for. Just.. call me back? Please? I really don’t want this to be the end of our friendship”. The message ended at that point, before moving onto the next recorded about an hour after the first, Derek’s voice noticeably less rough, almost gentle with its remorse in a way that Stiles himself had never had the opportunity to hear before. 

“Yeah, so, you’re still not answering my calls which I guess is warranted. Cause I fucked up, big time” there was a deep sigh followed by a long pause as clinking echoed across the line, a sound Stiles had come to associate closely with glass bottles, specifically alcohol bottles. “You know what...you clearly don't want to talk right now, and I should respect that so I'm just going to stop calling and leave you alone like you probably want” Derek laughed almost bitterly before adding quietly, in a whisper almost too low for Stiles to pick up “stay safe Stiles”. 

The third message left by the Alpha was time stamped as being only 20 minutes after the second.

And Derek sounded considerably drunk. 

“YOU! You! Were a total dick too! So this... this isn't entirely my f-faullt-t! Jus so ya know!!” mumbling followed the loud declaration which in its total bizarre and unexpected manner made Stiles' lips twitch towards a smile. The Alpha sounded whiny and petulant, like a kid who'd lost an argument with their parent. “Youuuu mentioned Kate and Jennifer whihch sucked. U suck. And now I'm dad-SAD! I am..duper sad”. Snorting inappropriately at the words being half-yelled down the phone, Stiles slapped his hand over his mouth to stop any laughter from leaking out and alerting Nick to anything out of the ordinary. He was after all, only supposed to be having a shower and then getting ready for their midnight picnic. 

Drunk Derek continued talking, words elongated by a sloppy inebriated tongue. “S'okay tho. CAuSe I know you didn't meean it. You w-were mad. An-d I for-forGiVE you! ...I … I di-didnt.. mean whaht I sssaid ei-either” the message cut off there possibly by accident, or on purpose. Who knows with a drunk Alpha werewolf but nevertheless, Stiles continued on, listening keenly to the next message with the expectation of more drunken rambling. 

He was wrong.

“Stiles! Stiles! I need you to answer the phone okay? Answer me or your dad, it doesn't matter who, just answer the fucking phone!! This is important Stiles. So call me back ASAP!! And whatever you do, do not go to Nick's!! He's dangerous” the Alpha sounded a lot more somber in the message, but also out of breath and...scared?? 

Which confused Stiles. A lot. Derek was never scared, especially not for Stiles. 

So what changed? 

Dread starting to form at the bottom of his stomach like snake coiling tightly, Stiles listened on, as each of Derek's voicemails got more and more desperate. Until the last one, sent only a few hours ago. 

“Stiles… listen, I don’t... I don’t know if you'll ever hear this in time..but I had to try… because I still believe that deep down, despite whatever Nick is telling you, and whatever creepy magic he’s doing to your head, you know that something isn’t right”. Heart fluttering like the fragile beating of a small birds wings, Stiles began to chew the loose skin on his bottom lip more vigorously in a subconscious display of anxiety. 

“I just wanted you to know...that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that it took actually losing you to someone else for me to realize how wrong I’ve been because the truth is… I like you. I really, really like you and I’ve been a complete idiot about it. I thought I was doing best by you by ignoring it, hoping that you’d move on to someone who deserves you more than I do, someone who doesn’t...destroy practically everything they touch because they’re so broken inside. ..But, I was wrong. And I didn’t give you, or us a chance. Instead, I made the choice to push you away to protect you”.

Wait, what?!

The bitter irony taste of blood spread across Stiles’ tongue as the teen managed to bite straight through the skin of his bottom lip in shock. Releasing the abused flesh abruptly with a wince, Stiles swallowed rapidly in an attempt to get rid of the taste. Derek’s words echoing around in his head like a ball in a game of squash, smashing against the walls of his mind with all the destructive force of a hurricane. 

Derek liked him? Actually liked him? Like, romantically?

Still struggling to process the new information Stiles almost missed the rest of the message, his mind barely managing to snap back into focus as Derek’s voice continued to flow into his ear. 

“I don’t blame you... I won’t blame you, that is if after all of this is over you want nothing to do with me. Cause you’d be right not to, I fucked up and now you’re paying the price. But I promise you, I’m going to fix it. Me and your dad, we have a plan, but we need you to sit tight for just a little bit longer, okay? Just act as normally as you can and don’t give anything away. We’re coming, Stiles. We haven’t left you, I promise”

The message ended there, leaving Stiles emotionally reeling in the bathroom of his boyfriend's apartment. Inhaling deeply to try and soothe a headache forming at the forefront of his skull Stiles closed his eyes for a brief moment before reopening and rising from his position on the closed toilet seat. Approaching the still running shower Stiles reached out a hand finally turning the knob to switch the water off, having long since finished getting washed, and only deciding to keep the water running to make Nick think he was still in the shower. 

He had needed time to think. Without Nick’s charming smile and honey coated words crawling their way into his mind and making things fuzzy again.

And now that he had time to think, to listen to Derek’s messages and process his emotions with a clear head. He knew exactly what he needed to do. With a renewed sense of determination swelling in his chest, Stiles stepped out of the bathroom and proceeded to get ready, pulling on his classic jeans, t-shirt, red hoodie, and white sneaker combination. 

Carefully tucking his phone into his hoodie pocket away from Nick’s prying eyes, Stiles made his way nonchalantly through the apartment, heading towards the kitchen where he could hear Nick preparing the picnic for tonight. Sliding casually onto a barstool Stiles reached over grabbing a juicy green apple from the top of the fruit bowl as Nick chopped up mint, chilies and spring onions with the practiced ease he always displayed in the kitchen. Crunching into the flesh of the apple Stiles grinned around his mouthful as Nick lifted an eyebrow questioningly in his direction, “nice shower then, love?”. Giving a nod of confirmation Stiles swallowed the chewed fruit in his mouth in order to reply, making extra sure to keep his tone light and teasing “yup! Did I mention I love your shower? Because I really, really love your shower”. 

Nick chuckled and the anxiety in Stiles’ chest deflated a little in relief. Eyes straying behind the older man’s shoulder Stiles watched as the clock mounted into the kitchen wall ticked closer and closer towards 3 pm, a type of niggling restlessness settling into his bones as his brain whispered desperately to itself.

I trust you, Derek, don’t make me regret it. Please.

 

~#~#~#~#~ Derek’s POV

 

As soon as Derek walked into the Stilinski household his nose was hit with the familiar scent of gunpowder, wolfsbane and mountain ash. Nose wrinkling in disgust as he swallowed down the need to sneeze obnoxiously, the Alpha approached the living room with weary steps, claws threatening to make an appearance at the unpleasant smell invading Stiles’ home. Tense shoulders relaxed as his eyes fell on the Sheriff alone on the sofa, staring pensively at a spread of items across the rectangular coffee table. 

The floorboard underneath Derek’s shoe creaked obnoxiously and John jumped, eyes snapping towards him hovering awkwardly in the doorway before a soft smile spread across his face. 

“Hey there son, you’ve just missed Chris”

Biting back the urge to reply with a snippy “good”, Derek simply nodded eying the assortment of objects on the table surface with an air of practiced suspicion earning himself a low chuckle from the older Stilinski. “Yeah, I don’t blame ya kid. Half of this stuff is better than what they have in the military, and trust me, I would know. But I guess… this is Allison’s way of helping? Although I’m pretty darn sure I’m not going to use any of this shit, I’m the Sheriff after all. Can’t be using illegal weapons even if it is to save my son” he grumbled pushing a box of what looked like flash grenades away with a scowl.

Feeling oddly soothed by the other man’s firm declaration of weapon abstinence Derek finally plucked up the courage to enter the living room, his inner wolf grumbling, pleased that the Sheriff showed the same disdain for the items of destruction. Taking a seat Derek leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as his hands clasped together tightly in an attempt to appear nonchalant as he posed the hopeful question he deep down, already knew the answer too. 

“No answer from Stiles then?”

A heavy sigh filtered past the Sheriff’s teeth as the older man shook his head in disappointment “no, I’ve rung him at least once every hour for the past two days...just in case he picks up you know? But so far… nothing”. Lips twisting into a sad frown Derek cast his gaze down towards his feet as John kept talking, the man growing more upset with the situation “I just… I don’t understand why he isn’t picking up? Is he scared I’m going to be mad at him for Wednesday night? I know he didn’t mean to throw me into the wall, he was just lashing out. I shouldn’t have cornered him like that, I should have kept my cool instead of blowing up as I did”. 

Shaking his head Derek interjected before the Sheriff could continue on his verbal guilt trip “this isn’t your fault, Stiles would have run one way or another. Especially with Nick messing with his head like that, turning him against everyone. It was just a matter of time”. Giving Derek a particularly bitter smile, John leveled the alpha with a hardened stare “Nick might have started the flame, but I fueled it Derek, and I have to take responsibility for that”. 

Derek didn’t respond, simply choosing to keep quiet as the older man’s words settled like a stone in his mind.

Yeah, you’re not the only one.

Slapping his hands onto his knees John stood up, his aged joints cracking at the movement as Derek watched in anticipation “right, enough wallowing. We need to go over the battle plan that’s going to save my son”. Nodding Derek followed suit, rising from his seated position to trail behind the Sheriff as the older man lead him up the stairs into Stiles’ room. Confused, Derek opened his mouth to ask John why they were in that room and then his eyes fell upon the cork board positioned on the wall behind Stiles’ desk. The Sheriff, it seems had taken it upon himself to assemble a large map across the two boards with various post-it notes dotted on the surface, bullet points and underlined words scribbled on in bright red marker creating a sight so familiar, so... Stiles-like that Derek couldn’t fight back the smile twitching at his lips. Stiles really was his father’s son. 

 

~#~#~#~#~ Stiles’ POV

The evening passed in the blink of an eye and the sky darkened faster than Stiles would have liked, the rose-golden tinge of a sunset sky bleeding rapidly into a dark blue with silvery pinpricks of starlight. Soon enough, it was time to head off, Nick gathering the picnic basket, thermos flasks, and blankets with a giddy sort of air that made Stiles’ stomach twinge in worry. Using the excuse of wanting the toilet before they left for their journey to the lake, the teen quickly checked his phone, heavy doubts beginning to form in his mind like a stormcloud at the sight of no new messages from Derek. In an attempt to steel himself against the very sudden, very terrifying realization that Derek and his dad might not be coming to save him, Stiles breathed slowly in through his nose and out through his mouth until his mind calmed down enough for the shaking to stop. 

Stubbornly ignoring the pale reflection of himself in the mirror above the sink Stiles twisted his features into a facsimile of a smile before leaving the bathroom and joining Nick at the door of the apartment, his voice overly chirpy to hide the underlying sadness.

“All right, let's go”

\---time skip---

 

In hindsight, Stiles probably should have figured out something more sinister was going on than what Nick was letting him believe, but as strange as it sounds, the teen once again found himself falling back into the familiar and captivating presence that was Nicholas Campbell. 

Upon arrival Stiles noticed quite quickly that the lake Nicholas had brought him too was a truly beautiful sight, and as they perched themselves down on its grassy verge with a thick waterproof picnic blanket to keep the dampness of the ground away, the Spark found his eyes settling instinctively on the deathly still waters of the lake in awe. The surface of the water acted as a perfect natural mirror of the night sky above, reflecting the full moon in all its silvery glory and the stars speckled around it like thousands of tiny little glowing fireflies. Various sounds of wildlife echoed around them as Nick unpacked the food from the basket and a few extra blankets to shelter them from the cold. Wrapping a large checkered blanket around his shoulders Stiles waited patiently as Nick set out the various tupperware boxes filled with what the Englishman clearly viewed as appropriate picnic food, which to put politely, was nothing at all like the picnic food the teen was used to. 

Then again, he hadn’t been on a picnic since before his mom died, and PB&J sandwiches with fruit juice, chips and cake were probably not something respectable adults take to picnics. Rapidly blinking away the bittersweet memories of summers long past, Stiles accepted the cup held out towards him, smiling his thanks as he brought the steaming object underneath his nose to inhale deeply. Eyebrows creeping towards his hairline in a pleasant surprise, Stiles hummed lowly as his senses lit up at the unique aroma billowing off the liquid. Intrigued, Stiles blew gently on the cup before taking a tentative sip, his taste buds immediately singing with pleasure at the impossibly fruity and flowery taste which burst across his tongue. 

Eyes comically wide Stiles hurriedly blew on the cup once again, eager to drink more of the warm liquid which made his insides feel like toasted marshmallows. Nick watched his reaction to the tea with an amused look on his face, a pleased glint appearing in his baby blue eyes as Stiles did his best to drain the small cup of the still scaldingly-hot tea. 

“You like it? It’s a personal infusion of mine. I learned some fantastic tea making skills in Southwest China a few years back, I’ll happily show you later if you want?” Nick proposed earning himself an enthusiastic nod in return. A beat of comfortable silence passed and then the older man spoke again, a distinctly offhanded tone to his voice which made Stiles pause in his efforts to drink the entire cup “I guess after tonight, I can take you there myself and you can learn like I did, straight from the masters of the craft”. Snorting unattractively Stiles rolled his eyes at Nick’s words, more than used to his boyfriend's wild promises and fanciful ideas of their future together. 

“I can’t go to China with you Nick, don’t be ridiculous”

Reaching out and grabbing Stiles' hand with a deathly grip Nick grinned impishly “of course you can, love. We’re going to travel to the world together. Once the blood moon begins nothing will stand in our way anymore, not your friends, not your father... Not even those pesky little doubts you keep having in your adooorable little head”. 

Flinching back violently, Stiles tried in vain to tug his hand out of Nick’s hold, only for the older man’s fingers to tighten like iron, causing the delicate bones in Stiles’ hands to grind together and ache. With his heart now thumping fast and loud in his chest Stiles spared Nick a nervous glance, his stomach clenching at the dark look being trained on him. 

“What’s the matter, Stiles? Don’t you love me anymore??” Nick queried, lips forming a sad pout as his head tilted innocently to the side. Rapidly shaking his head Stiles gave one last desperate tug, his hand slipping out of Nick’s grip sending him careening backward. Scrambling quickly to his feet, all the while silently cursing the blanket around his shoulders for and slowing him down, Stiles made a break for it, his long legs carrying him across the grass in massive strides. 

Heart in his throat he ran, heading up the steep hill back towards the car park, and after what seemed like an age, Stiles finally made it to the top, only slipping a few times on the soft earth beneath his shoes. Gulping large desperate breaths of air into his lungs the teen suddenly stumbled, stomach lurching and legs buckling under the weight of his body. Reaching out to try and steady himself Stiles yelped loudly as the world around him suddenly whited out, his limbs growing tingly and useless as he fell roughly to the ground. Everything was spinning, even the ground was twisting and turning underneath his now shaking body and Stiles had to bite back a sob, a ringing beginning to echo in his ears only serving to add to the crippling sense of disorientation enveloping him. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Looks like you didn’t get very far darling. Although, that might have a little something to do with a special ingredient I slipped into that tea you loved so much. I was prepared you see, couldn’t have you running off at such a crucial moment in our relationship!” Nick announced cheerfully from somewhere to the left and Stiles whined pathetically as strong hands plucked him from his curled fetal position on the grass. 

Securing Stiles better in his arms Nick hummed as he began the trek back down the waterfront “come along, love. The eclipse will be starting soon, and I’m certain you won’t want to miss even a second of it”.

 

~#~#~#~#~ Derek’s POV

 

“I’m still not happy with the idea of you doing this alone, I should be there. He’s my son” the Sheriff grumbled, noticeably displeased as they pulled into a small side road, the almost silent purr of the camaro’s engine cutting off as Derek parked. Leaving the keys in the ignition Derek turned to John, his brow furrowed in frustration, ready to snap.. until he saw the hurt and desperation flickering across the older man’s features. Realising just how hard it must be for a father to sit and do nothing as someone else saved his son, Derek gave the Sheriff a comforting squeeze on his shoulder, looking deep into his tired gaze “Nick’s too strong and Stiles needs you alive, I’m not risking him coming out of this without a dad to help him through. He’s going to need you Sir, getting him away from that asshole is only the first step”.   
Nodding almost reluctantly to the logic in Derek’s words, John blew out a long breath reaching into his pocket to retrieve a small black device, about the size of a remote car key with a single button in the middle. “You’re right, but I don’t trust that Tobias, so I want you to take this, just incase something goes wrong and you can’t get out with Stiles. I have to other one so if you press the button mine will start emitting an alarm and I’ll know you need back up”. Opening his mouth to reassure the Sheriff once again, that he was capable of doing this Derek swallowed his words as the elder Stilinski leveled him with a pleading look “please, just… for my peace of mind. Take it”. Giving a sharp nod Derek grabbed the device and stuffed it into his pocket before sliding out of the car, facial features shifting into Beta form as he set off into the night.

He had a Warlock to kill.

And a friend to save.


	37. chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, the end is here, and so we face... the FINAL CURTAIN!!!!! Last chapter my dudes, I hope you enjoy it because I really enjoyed writing this fic. Thank you to every single person who left a Kudos, a bookmark and a special thank you to those who commented!! This has been an amazing journey, I'm so proud of my first ever published fanfic, I know it's not perfect but it's mine and I love it :D 
> 
> See you guys for the sequel!!!

~#~#~#~#~ Nick’s POV

 

Setting Stiles down gently on the blanket, safe in the knowledge that he was too drugged up to even think about running again, Nick turned away from the teen and began rifling through the contents of the large wicker picnic basket, pushing aside the boxes of food to bring out the materials he needed for the ritual. Humming a little to fill the silence, Nick plucked out an old ritual bowl made of dark grey stone with three hooded female figures protruding from the outside, a carved wooden trinket box, and the spell book, placing the objects between himself and Stiles who remained quiet, eyes dazed and fingers twitching.

Tired of the quiet, having already become so used to the hum of chatter coming from the teen the Warlock began to speak softly but enthusiastically. “You’re going to realize, very soon Stiles. That when you’re as powerful and as old as I am, it’s very hard to find a suitable romantic partner, especially someone with such true potential! Someone who is finally worthy of my love. And I must admit, throughout the decades I have made mistakes, wrongly assumed I had found the one… only for them to betray me like the snakes they were!! But now I see, all of it, my pain, my efforts. They weren’t for nothing, they were preparing me, preparing me for you”. A garbled groan slipped past the Spark’s lips and Nick popped open the trinket box, the pentacle carved onto the lid's surface shining in the moonlight for a brief second before a soft red velvet inside was revealed. In the box lay the vial of blood and a small sealed bag of hair previously collected from the teen, along with a pure silver bladed athame and a soft brown leather bag tied with twine. 

Settling down cross-legged in front of the ritual bowl Nick first poured into the contents of the vial into it along with the hair from the bag, speaking all the while. “Because with each disappointment I grew more and more determined to get what I deserve, I realized that I was willing to do anything, and I mean anything to ensure the next one, would be the last. So when I saw you that night, all alone on the dance floor, soul so bright and brimming with magic. I set things in motion”. Picking up the athame next, Nick drew the sharp edge of the blade against the flesh of his lower forearm, hissing slightly in pain as the metal sliced through the skin with ease. “Did some research on you before I approached, of course, my little Mieczyslaw Stilinski, a simple high school student from Beacon Hills with a 4 point GPA, ADHD and an anxiety disorder. But you’re more than that aren’t you, Stiles? You’re a Spark, a pure untapped well of power just waiting to be unleashed. The only person who could ever stand a chance at becoming my true equal”. Positioning his arm so the blood from the fresh cut dribbled down into the bowl, Nick allowed enough to flow before healing himself wordlessly. Reaching up the Warlock proceeded to tug out a few hairs from his head before dropping them in and then stirring using the tip of the athame. Sparing a glance towards Stiles, Nick grinned excitedly “we are Gods amongst men, Stiles”. 

A soft keening whine echoed in reply as tears slipped out of the corner of Stiles’ eyes, trickling down to the ground underneath the teens head “i..don’t..want-” cutting Stiles whispered words off with a rough barking laugh, Nick shook his head “you don’t know what you want”. Next, Nick proceeded to empty the contents of the leather pouch into the bowl, the dried husks of small purple flowers, various root clippings and a few small white bird bones falling into the thick ruby liquid, sinking slowly to the bottom. Suddenly, the silvery moonlight began to shift, changing rapidly into something darker, more ominous and the Warlock spared a glance upwards, watching with bated breath as the moon became swallowed by a deep bloody tinge.

Aware that he had only a limited timeframe where the celestial event would be at its strongest, Nick hastened his movements, opening the book at the page he required before grabbing the ritual bowl and kneeling down beside Stiles. Ignoring the teen’s rather futile attempts at rolling away Nick slipped his hand underneath Stiles’ head, elevating his neck whilst weak pale hands slapped uselessly against his forearm. Twisting the fingers of his right hand tightly into the Spark’s hair, earning himself a sharp gasp of pain, Nick brought the bowl to the younger man’s lips, pressing the rim firmly against the open mouth to prevent it from closing again, before gently tipping the bowl.

Wide honey colored eyes shone brightly with a blind feral panic as the contents poured into his mouth, short huffing breaths escaping through flared nostrils as Stiles struggled to breathe, thick irony liquid no doubt already beginning to slip down his throat. Once empty, Nick threw the bowl aside, violently slapping his free hand across Stiles’ mouth, clamping the lips shut whilst pinching the nostrils together to prevent breathing. The struggle renewed between the two men, wild hands grasping and clawing at Nick, the frightening lack of oxygen forcing the teen's body into overdrive, adrenaline kicking in. But no amount of adrenaline could fight through the thick haze of drugs in his system and allow him to overpower the Warlock’s stronghold. 

“Swallow it Stiles, and I’ll let go” Nick promised sweetly, giving Stiles a reassuring grin.

Stiles stubbornly refused, his eyes becoming bloodshot and skin turning an alarming shade of pruce as his body fought to breathe. Sighing in disappointment Nick gave another vicious yank of Stiles’ hair, the pain caused by the ripping off hair from the scalp making the Spark swallow involuntarily. “There you go” Nick cooed encouragingly as Stiles’ throat convulsed around the foreign and bitter mixture until he had swallowed it all. Letting the teen’s head flop back onto the blanket with a soft thump, Nick removed his hand from Stiles’ mouth, revealing red-stained lips and a chin decorated with dribbles of blood that escaped during the struggle. 

“Well done, love!” giving Stiles’ cheek a gentle encouraging pat Nick began to utter the ancient words sprawled across the page of the book, one hand firmly pressed on Stiles’ chest just above his heart, the other hovering above his own. 

“Dhia, thoir dhomh an cumhachd anns an solas geal fola seo, gus dà anam a dhèanamh gu aon. Leig leis na cridheachan againn a bhith a 'bualadh còmhla, ann an deagh sgeul airson a' chòrr de shìorraidheachd. Gabhaibh mo thoil, bi e, agus is dòcha gu bheil a chumhachd a 'tighinn orm”

With each word spoken into the crisp night, threads of energy emerged from their chests, pulsing and curling like a living thing, wrapping around Nick’s hands and traveling up his arms. The energy from Nick’s chest, a dark black wisp of smoke danced across the Warlocks skin as it made its way towards the shoulder, traveling across them and then down the arm positioned over Stiles before stabbing itself into the teen’s chest. Eyes bulging in pain Stiles lay immobile as Nick’s energy invaded him, expanding throughout his chest like poison with each shuddering beat of his heart until every cell in his body drowned in the black. In stark comparison, the energy from Stiles shined a much purer tone, appearing almost like a kaleidoscopic ray of light as it slowly made its way up Nick’s arm. 

It was so close, unlimited power.

Grinning maniacally Nick forced more of his energy into Stiles causing the younger man to cry out in agony, eyes squeezing shut. 

“STILES!!!” no sooner did the yell register in his mind before the Warlock felt himself being ripped from his position beside Stiles and thrown nearly twenty meters away, right into the path of one of the thick white oaks which lined both sides of the riverbank. 

 

~#~#~#~#~ Derek’s POV

As soon as he caught sight of Stiles pinned to the ground by Nick, Derek knew instinctively that something was wrong, knew that they had made a mistake by not coming sooner. The Alpha was earning the bottom the hillside when Stiles screamed, a horrible painful sound which made the wolf inside rage like a lunatic, a howl ripping past his lips in the form of the Spark’s name. “STILES!!!” jaw unhinging as saliva filled his fanged mouth Derek launched himself forward those last couple of feet and grabbed the Warlock by the back of his neck, throw him as far away as he could and grumbling ferally in satisfaction when Nick soared through the air before his body made contact with a tree. 

Snarling as the figure struggled to his feet Derek positioned himself protectively in front of Stiles, who stayed worryingly immobile on the ground, not even sparing a blink at the werewolf’s sudden appearance. Fingers flexing Derek cast a look of deep concern towards the teen at his feet before snapping his gaze back towards the Warlock, Nick’s voice calling out in its signature mocking tone “didn’t you hear Fido? It’s rude to turn up to a party uninvited!!”.

Huffing out a laugh, Derek let a smirk twist across his already supernaturally contorted features before commenting snidely “your friend Tobias invited me” and reveling in the brief look of confusion which flashed through Nick’s gaze, confident that he had gotten the upper hand.   
He was wrong.

And just as quick as Nick appeared surprised, he burst into manic laughter, all the while wagging his finger at Derek like someone who had just realized the punchline of a particularly bad joke. “That’s hilarious! I must admit, you had me there for a bit before I remembered I actually sent that spineless fool your way!!”. Blinking in surprise, Derek’s stomach dropped as Nick continued to chuckle whilst making his way slowly, almost leisurely, back towards the Alpha and Stiles. 

“You have to forgive me, I didn’t mean to give you the impression you actually had a chance of winning, however fleeting it may have been because that’s just plain mean. But you see, I’ve had a busy past few days and it just slipped my mind what I asked dear little Tobias to do. I suppose since you’re here now, might as well make the most of it” Nick shrugged casually before throwing both of his hands outwards and then clenching into fists. 

Abruptly, a growl was ripped forth from Derek’s throat as a crushing pressure wrapped around his upper body like a heavy duty mechanical vice and squeezed. Arms now stuck firmly at his sides the Alpha swallowed back a roar of pain as his claws dug into the thick meat of his own outer thighs, his bones shifting and cracking dangerously under the invisible force. Breathing becoming increasingly more labored, and sweat beginning to trickle across his brow Derek hissed out through clenched fangs “I’..m goi..ng to rip...y-our...fuuh..fucking…” before cutting himself off with a pained grunt. All at once his bones gave way, snapping like brittle twigs under the pressure and tearing apart his skin like tissue paper. 

“I’m sorry, what was that? You’re going to????... oh that’s right, you’re not going to do anything are you, Derek?” humming in a distinctly pleased tone Nick approached the Alpha with a smile. Glaring with as much hatred and anger as he could manage, Derek finally crumpled to his knees as the Warlock patted him on the shoulder in a mocking attempt of consolation. “Don’t fret darling, at least this way you die by my hand, which is much kinder than the alternative I originally had in mind” with that said Nick gave Derek’s shoulder a harsh shove, sending the alpha tumbling to the ground like a domino. 

Watching helplessly as Nick continued on with the ritual, hand placed once again over Stiles’ deathly still chest and drawing out what looked like pure iridescent light, Derek did the only thing he could think of.

He howled.

 

~#~#~#~#~ John’s POV

 

Back in the car, John sat in tense silence, eagerly waiting for any sign of Derek and Stiles so he could finally stop feeling a vicious all consuming aching in his chest. An aching which made itself home in his heart since Wednesday night and no doubt wouldn’t leave until he holds his teenage son in his arms again and never let go. Leg jiggling impatiently John wondered to himself if the anxious feeling twisting his stomach in knots is what Stiles has to deal with on a daily basis with his ADHD, if so, then how in the hell did he cope? Because right now, all he wants to do was claw his skin off until the buzzing underneath stops.

Taking his phone out of his back pocket to check the time once again, John bit back the urge to sigh in frustration, had it really only been fifteen minutes since Derek had left him? Pressing his lips together he tucked the phone back away and settled his eyes upwards, gaze automatically drawing itself to the rusted orange moon hanging high and full in the sky. 

John didn’t need to have an understanding of any mystical magic shit to know that that moon meant bad news. 

Suddenly, a howl pierced the through the deadly silence of the night air, long and filled with desperation. 

A cry for help.

Launching into action John quickly un-holstered his pistol and climbed out of the Camaro in one swift movement. Sprinting into the darkness the Sheriff followed pure instinct, relying solely on the sharp tugging sensation located below his navel as the echoes of the howl resonated within his soul, like a beacon, drawing him to where he needed to be. Crossing the black tarmac of the car park in record speed John skidded to a halt at the top of a large grassy hill, neck twisting side to side as his sharp trained eyes sought out any sign of life. Gaze freezing, the older man squinted through the black of the night as his brain registered the sight of a figure bent over something by the waterside. Suspicions growing with every second that passed, John began a steady descent down the hill, keeping his footing level and gun raised in preparation. 

Stopping just short of 100 yards away, John’s grip tightened on the gun as rage swelled inside, Nick was kneeling over his son, hand hovering over Stiles’ chest as he drew something outwards, something the Sheriff was certain wasn’t meant to be taken. Lying just to the left of Nick and Stiles was Derek, grey-faced and breathing shallowly into the cold night. The Warlock had neglected to notice him, and John wasn’t sure how long that luck would last. 

So he did the only thing he could, he aimed and then fired.

BANG!

The bullet shot forth hitting its target with deadly efficiency. A beat passed, then another, and for a split second, John was so sure that it hadn’t worked, that the supernatural creature before him had somehow survived a projectile of lead right through the skull. But then he fell, limp body rocking backward with the force of gravity until it landed with a thud. Rushing forward those last few hundred centimeters John kept his gun trained firmly on the still figure lying on the ground, glassy blue eyes staring skyward and bullet exit wound glistening a deep red as droplets slid down waxy skin. Once completely certain that the Warlock was finally dead, John turned his attention towards his son, collapsing at Stiles’ side as he frantically checked his pulse. 

Breathing out a sigh of relief John blinked back the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, adrenaline fading as he realized Stiles was simply unconscious, his breathing deep and pulse steady against John’s fingertips. 

A garbled groan drew his attention away from his son and towards the Alpha lying a few feet away, swearing loudly John moved towards Derek, reaching out and laying a hand on his shoulder as he looked the younger man over for any injuries. It was hard to see in the dark.. but the alpha's chest didn't look good. Biting back bile at the sight of what looked like shattered bone poking through material and the heavy, cloying scent of too much blood in the air, the Sheriff soldiered on. “Hey kid, I'm gonna need you to focus okay? Because you're really injured and I need to know whether or not to call an ambulance” John coaxed gently, adding a little squeeze of his hand as Derek's eyes slipped past his dazedly. 

“S…stiles” a weak mumbled response brushed past the werewolf’s lips and the Sheriff fought to urge to smack the kid. “Stiles is fine Derek! I've checked him over, he's just unconscious. I need you to focus on yourself now, cause you look like you've lost a lot of blood and your bones are on the outside of your body which is very not good! Now, are you going to heal or do I need to call an ambulance?”. Glancing down once again at the mangled mess of a torso John reconsidered asking the werewolf at all, it looked bad and the kid had enough stubborn pride to try and walk it off. But did he really want to explain a self-healing miracle to a bunch of EMTs if Derek's werewolf mojo kicked in halfway to the hospital? 

“N...nnnot h-he-healing.Sh-should b-be ffffine by-by n-now” the werewolf panted painfully through clenched teeth and John swore again, just as loud and angry as the first time. Making up his mind John tucked the gun back into his holster and pulled out his phone fully intent on dialing 911 and getting an ambulance as soon as possible. Just then, a faint shuffling sound caught his attention, head snapping over his shoulder John sighed in relief as he realized it was just Stiles waking up, and not a zombie version of Nick. 

He did not want to add zombies to his list of personal supernatural experiences, ideally, he wouldn't have a list at all. But living in Beacon Hills didn't exactly lead to an ideal life. 

“Stiles, it's okay now. I'm here” he called out reassuringly, trying to get his son's attention without having to leave Derek's side. If Stiles had heard him he didn't react, instead, he continued stumbling to his feet like a baby colt, back facing John and Derek. 

“Stiles…..what's wrong?”

Still no reply, and John was becoming increasingly concerned as his son seemed to just stare off into the distance. Opening his mouth to call out again, louder this time, the Sheriff found himself beaten to the punch by Derek who seemed to have mustered all his fleeting strength to speak up. 

“Stiles?”

One whispered call of his name by the Alpha was all it took, like a switch being flipped Stiles whipped his head around gaze falling on Derek's heavily injured form.

But his eyes were wrong. 

Gone were the soft golden honey like a perfect reflection of his wife's eyes, in their place a swirling mass of light and dark, shifting and cursing like a river. Barely stopping himself from flinching at the sight John watched silently as Stiles knelt at Derek's other side, long fingers reaching out to cradle the Alpha's clammy but human face. 

Stiles looked sad as he simpered in an unnaturally pitched voice, like thousands of people speaking together in perfect symphony in an echoing room “sourwolf”. 

“Stiles?? ...Son…” John tried to catch his son's attention one last time, panic clawing its way up his chest as he failed once again to garner a reaction. Not even a flicker of eye contact. Then, Stiles began to move, slowly leaning down towards Derek's face, eyes slipping closed as lips touched. 

Mouth hanging open John tried to muster up a feeling, any feeling at all as he watched his son deepen the kiss, but found himself remiss. Sometime during the kiss, Stiles’ hand must have wandered from the alpha's face and onto his chest because suddenly light was leaking outwards, blindingly white and spreading like a spider web from splayed fingers. Almost instantly John began to see the effects as rib bones slotted themselves back inside Derek's body like puzzle pieces being put into place, muscle and skin knitting back together in the blink of an eye.

The color returned to Derek's skin and his breathing steadied out, no longer inhibited by the sharp pieces of bone most likely puncturing his lungs only seconds ago. The light faded, and Stiles pulled away, eyes reopening and revealing the same swirling mass of pitch black and iridescent white before he began to rise up from his kneeling position. Letting go of Derek's shoulder John followed suit, straightening up and holding his hand out towards Stiles, but the teen stepped back face blank. “Mischief?” the Sheriff questioned confused and hurt as his son increased the distance between them by stepping back a few more times. 

Was this because of the fight? 

Was Stiles still mad at him? 

A thousand apologies forming on his lips John found himself yelling out in alarm instead as a flash of light exploded like a bomb in front of his eyes, momentarily blinding him. Rapidly blinking away the spots in his vision the Sheriff's stomach dropped with dread. 

Stiles was gone. 

And so was Nick's body.

**Author's Note:**

> First ever published story! hope you like it guys!! I love writing this fic and I've already got around ten or eleven chapters written. It's cross-posted on Fanfiction.net and Wattpad.


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